Little Lion Man
by seirios aster
Summary: Regulus may worry too much, but he doesn't see anything wrong with that. Even if he is more clueless than he will ever know. Companion piece to "Little Voice" by RaeynnBeau.
1. Flushed From The Bathroom Of Your Heart

This is a companion piece to **Little Voice** by RaeynnBeau and may be read alone. However, things make more sense when the two are read in tandem. This chapter takes place at the same time as "Morningside" in **Little Voice**.

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><p>"<em>Le pelouse est dans une autre château<em>," the flying cat meowed. It was made of purple cellophane and seemed to have fractal fur patterns, but the ground wouldn't stop spinning to allow for a good enough look. A badger and a snake were battling with flaming swords. There was other bizarre symbolism, but it was more or less par for the course. Of course, there was always the question of how the snake was swordfighting.

That was the thought Regulus Black woke with: how would a snake swordfight. He stared at his extra pillow, wondering why in the name of Merlin a snake would get into a swordfight. It took an unholy screech for Regulus to fully comprehend that he was awake and that in the real world, cats didn't speak broken French and snakes could not in fact swordfight.

This was when Regulus realized he needed to go to the bathroom. He probably shouldn't have had that many cups of tea before bed, but the tea tasted so good and kept his hands warm when he was doing homework. The dungeons had the tendency to be damned cold, and Regulus didn't want to get out of bed, let alone walk all the way to the bathroom. The bed was warm and comfy, and… he was never going to be able to get back to sleep if he didn't go to the bloody bathroom.

Grabbing his discarded and unpleasantly cold shirt off the floor where he had filed it, Regulus decided he was semi-presentable. The floor, of course, was freezing through his socks, but these socks like most in his possession were holey. He really needed to learn how to darn socks, because he felt bad having house elves fix things he was just going to wear another hole in. The Slytherin dungeons had no natural light aside from the dim light filtered through the lake. The lack of sunlight wreaked havoc on Regulus' emotions even more in the winter when it was dark when he woke up and dark when he was out of class, but at the moment it was probably still pitch black outside. Because of the darkness and Regulus' natural propensity to run into things, he grabbed his wand since magic was so much easier to deal with than finding a candle. Even if a candle would be a heat-source.

Of course, if he had been at home, Regulus would probably have just wandered around in the dark and bumped into walls. Sirius slept like the dead, and Mum and Dad were likely used to his lack of spatial sense by now. The more Regulus thought about them, the more he started to feel melancholy. With a sigh, he pushed any thought of his family out of his head.

Accidentally reaching the stairs a little more quickly than he intended, Regulus made a misstep, but he managed to only trip down a couple stairs and not hit the person likewise in the stairwell at this unholy hour of the night. It was what he deserved for being so lost in thought. Regulus cast a quick _lumos_ so as he wouldn't trip over his own feet again.

"…Barty?" Regulus murmured as he recognized his friend as the one he had almost fallen onto. He was quite frankly confused as to why his friend was also—The screech. Obviously. Well, that mystery solved, this was a little awkward. Not normally, really, but Regulus had a problem with babbling and tended to follow Barty around like an idiot.

Barty froze. Regulus noted his friend was wearing those really nice if oversized pajamas his mother had given him for Christmas. They were infinitely superior to Regulus' goofy Superman pajama bottoms (Sirius had given them to him a couple years ago). The only reason Regulus noticed was that he marveled at the fact Barty could walk down the stairs in the dark and not trip over himself. There had to be at least one or two inches that pooled on the floor.

Oh, no. Barty had that aggravated set to his shoulders. Someone was going to be cranky tomorrow. Or right now. Regulus wondered what was wrong, but he knew he probably shouldn't ask. Should he apologize preemptively, just in case? Before Regulus could make up his mind, Barty turned around and clearly annoyed said, "Reg, you're blinding me."

"Huh?" Regulus realized his wand was more or less at eye-level with Barty and immediately felt embarrassed. "Oh, sorry," he apologized, feeling incredibly stupid and more slow than usual. He knew Barty had been annoyed about something, and now he'd probably made it worse. Sure, Barty might not be mad at him, but, well, maybe Regulus _had_ done something earlier in the day to upset him? He definitely should try to apologize for that, but in the mood Barty seemed to be in, Regulus wasn't sure Barty would forgive him for anything.

And now Barty tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. He had every right to feel that way, really. Regulus must have seemed like a stalker, wandering around at Merlin knew what hour of the night, accidentally temporarily blinding people. Desperate to make the silence less oppressive, Regulus blurted, "I'm… surprised to see you up this late." Wow, that was _exactly_ the last thing on Earth he should have said. Actually, declaring his love for Lily Evans might have barely been a bit worse, although he'd mostly gotten over that. Trying to fix his mistake, Regulus restarted, "So—" Yeah, that was a great conversation starter. So. His brain seemed to have turned off the filter between it and his mouth, because Regulus then asked, "What are you—"

And then Barty declared caustically, "Christ, Reg! What are you, my mum? I woke up and had to take a piss – no big mystery here!" Yep, Barty was angry with him. Regulus froze, wondering what he could say to make it better, but by the time he was able to even form words, Barty had done an about-face and was stalking off.

"Barty…" Regulus whined, angry at himself for only managing that. "Barty, I'm sorry!" he called after his friend, but it didn't seem like Barty had heard him. Too little, too late.

Trying to think of what he could have done, Regulus stood in the stairwell, just thinking. Everything had been pretty normal earlier that day. He might have been a bit more obnoxious and clingy than usual during potions, but Barty still sometimes didn't quite understand some concepts in that class. Since Sev had graduated the year before, Slughorn had decided that Regulus was decent enough to make sure Barty didn't blow the school up.

Regulus slid down to the floor and let the light go out. He didn't need anyone else witnessing his private little breakdown, especially not another Slytherin. Regulus' breath hitched as he tried not to cry. He was a fuck-up, and that was all there was to it. He couldn't even figure out what he had done to so upset his best friend. Truth be told, Barty was really Reg's only friend left at Hogwarts. God, that was so bloody pathetic. There had to be something about Reg that made people not like him, because if he didn't have some flaw he couldn't identify, then he wouldn't know what there was to fix. He couldn't bear it when people didn't like him.

Well, sure, he was selfish, but you had to be in Slytherin. This damned house wasn't like Hufflepuff, where everything was sunshine and kittens and rainbows and everyone seemed to genuinely like each other. Sometimes Regulus wondered if he would have fit in better there or if instead he would have made all the other Hufflepuffs depressed, too.

Maybe he had ignored Barty? There had been something at lunch, right? Reg had been distracted by the Gryffindor table and wondering how Sirius was doing. Maybe whatever made Sirius angry at him was the same thing that made Barty angry?

Regulus hugged his knees to his chest and tried not to think about that. Sirius was writing to him, albeit sporadically, but he wasn't … angry, really. So, hopefully Barty being angry was just an isolated incident. Yes, he had to have just screwed something up earlier. It wasn't that Regulus was a shitty human being, except—Oh, Merlin, he was. He was selfish and self-centered and vain, and he talked about stupid shit no one was interested in but him, which only served to piss everyone else off. It didn't help that he thought himself morally superior to a good number of his classmates, but then again, feeling morally superior to Voldemort's future cronies wasn't anything to write home about. It was like saying one was morally superior to a Nazi.

If Regulus fell off the face of the Earth, he doubted anyone would truly be worse off. Sirius could go be happy with James, who—let's face it—was the brother Sirius deserved. And Mum and Dad wouldn't have to know their son was a fuck-up that was more than willing to fall in love with a Muggleborn. The obvious benefit would be to Barty, who wouldn't have to deal with Regulus' bullshit all the time. He could just be himself and not perpetually bothered by his over-talkative, depressed, and clueless idiot of friend.

Eventually, Regulus managed to get himself to move again. He couldn't sit in the stairwell all night feeling sorry for himself. Also, bathroom. Where there were tissues in the form of toilet paper, because there was snot all over his hand (no way in hell was he wiping it on his shirt and especially not his pants).

Recasting the light spell, Regulus made his way to the bathroom. He washed off his hand first, thinking the entire time that the body had some very bizarre ways of regulating its nasal mucosa and that he really needed to start carrying tissues around with him. This was what? His third freak-out in the past two weeks? If this trend kept up, he would need to carry a whole box of tissues with him. He'd claim allergies.

Satisfied that his hand was de-goo-ified, Regulus finally took the opportunity to go to the bathroom.

And of course now he was thirsty.

Regulus felt like punching a wall, but there were only mirrors around. He didn't particularly believe in the superstition that breaking a mirror caused seven years bad luck, but the thought of Madame Pomfrey picking glass shards out of his hand before disinfecting with hydrogen peroxide or iodine was enough to deter him.

Settling for quenching his thirst, Regulus drank a handful of water from the washbasin tap, but he still felt awful. It was somewhat warm in the bathroom, but that was because someone had decided to shower at an unholy hour of the morning.

That was when he realized it had to be Barty. Also when he realized Barty seemed to be crying and effectively confirmed that Regulus had done something wrong. (Regulus was no stranger to talking to himself, so that Barty did also was not much of a surprise.)

Feeling a new wave of guilt, Regulus made as quick a retreat from the bathroom as he could. He didn't even bother using a spell to light his way he was so embarrassed. Barty clearly hadn't thought Regulus would have overheard him, so he couldn't say anything. Desperate for a solution, Regulus considered confronting Barty when he came back upstairs, but he knew his first thought was right. He should put it off to tomorrow. Right now, he was exhausted and emotionally overwrought. There was no good reason for him to say anything and nothing to say.

With a sigh, Regulus discarded his shirt again and crawled back into bed. It had gone cold in the time that he had been gone, but he deserved the discomfort. This was the least he could do to begin to atone for whatever he had done wrong.

Regulus tried to stay awake and wait until Barty came back, even if he wasn't going to ask what he had done wrong just then. He just wanted to make sure Barty was more or less all right, but in the end he couldn't help but fall back to sleep.


	2. Blue In Green

Follows "Between the Lines" in **Little Voice**.

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><p>"Barty, you really don't look so well," Regulus mentioned softly. Granted, his friend had just been subjected to a Howler from his father, who for all intents and purposes was a jackass, but he had seemed a little out of it previous to that. He wondered if Barty had a migraine, but usually he only got one when he didn't get enough sleep. "Maybe you should go back to the dorms and go to sleep? Or, well, eat something? Andy says the best thing for her migraines is a can of Coke and chips, but we kinda don't have Coke here, which is depressing."<p>

Oh, dear Merlin, he was rambling again. Barty had a glazed expression on his face, so Regulus figured he was right about the migraine. Rambling normally induced an indulgent expression. Maybe Barty was still upset about something, despite how he had started to say something about last night. "Barty?" Regulus repeated, trying to get his attention.

Barty said, "Huh?" at that, so maybe he was listening again.

"Sleeping usually helps the migraines? Look, Barty, if you're still not feeling well later, maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey? She'll probably have something good, although I'd avoid the opiates, but that's really just me, 'cause weird shit happens when I take them. Um, well, you should eat some stuff first, though," Regulus reiterated, hoping Barty would have been able to listen this time.

"Uh, Reg?" Barty began suddenly, looking a little unsteady and pretty woosy. He was still staring unfocusedly at his food when he continued, "Sorry – I need to go write my parents, or they're gonna be all over me. Might even send me another bloody howler tomorrow if I don't get back to them today." Regulus was somewhat nervous about Barty passing out somewhere in the castle and being walked over by first years that weren't paying attention to where they were going. Of course, the only instance of that happening had been related to him by Dorcas Meadowes, so the truth of the rumor was more than dubious. In any case, shouldn't Regulus at least offer to help Barty upstairs?

"I'll see you around, all right?" Barty said in way of goodbye after pausing to collect his likely disjointed thoughts.

"See you," Regulus replied inanely as Barty wandered off more or less in a straight line. He returned to his breakfast after that, wishing that he had actually been able to talk to Barty about whatever it was that had happened last night. He must have done something to upset him, but Regulus had thought about it when he woke up this morning and was drawing a blank. Maybe he forgot that yesterday had some significance?

Regulus sighed. No, that couldn't be it, either. He was scatterbrained, but he wrote down important dates. Maybe he had accidentally insulted Barty somehow? That could have been it. On the other hand, maybe Barty just had misplaced anxiety about his potions grades. Frustrated, he decided to go take a walk and clear his head. It looked like today was a bad day for flying, so Regulus had to be content with wandering the school grounds. Thankfully, he managed to keep his mind off things for the most part. The weather might have been depressing to most people, but Regulus found something comforting about rain. He found it and grey skies soothing.

He managed to walk as far as the lake when the rain started to pour. There had only been a light shower for most of his trek, but then the sky started raining buckets. Regulus considered trying to run back to the castle so as not to get soaked, but by the time he got there, he would have been drenched anyway. The Whomping Willow was the closest tree, so the possibility of taking shelter under a tree was out. Regulus realized he had also left his wand in his room.

He considered jumping in the lake simply because he was such an idiot and that would honestly follow, but Regulus settled for slowly trudging back to the castle. On the way there, he came to the conclusion that Barty probably wasn't angry with him. Usually Barty made it obvious when he was angry with him, and since Barty had been trying to apologize this morning before the Howler, he definitely wasn't angry.

Back inside the castle, Regulus felt like an idiot wandering around, leaving puddles in his wake. The younger students obviously thought he was more than a little crazy, and the older students reaffirmed their convictions that Regulus was in fact mad. Regulus had half a mind to agree with them, although there was something freeing about knowing everyone thought the worst of you. That way, you didn't have to live up to expectations. Embracing the fact that other students didn't think much of him was akin to armor, but the looks and the walking behind his back still hurt. He guessed he wasn't as self-assured as he wished he was.

In the Slytherin dorms, no one looked at him twice, but Regulus knew they were just adding this to their growing list of why the Blacks were becoming more unbalanced. Regulus had likely contributed even more to the list than Sirius. At least his brother made sense. Well, not really. In all honesty, Sirius might have independently decided to do something stupid like swimming in the lake on a day like this. Then they might have used the opportunity to talk. Merlin, Regulus missed his brother. He knew it was stupid and immature, but it just really hurt not seeing Sirius much anymore. They couldn't socialize in public for fear of word getting back to Mum, and Bellatrix just wouldn't shut up about how Sirius was a disgrace. Narcissa at least understood that Sirius' absence hurt him.

Regulus smiled, thinking how Sirius would have told him to get over it. The funny thing was that it might have worked if Sirius said it. Regulus was still smiling when he entered his dorm-room. Barty was facedown on his bed, staring blankly at nothing. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, not that Regulus blamed him. If he got headaches like that, Regulus might not change clothes for a couple days, either.

"Hey, Barty," Regulus said, feeling bizarrely chipper. Barty groaned something incomprehensible, possibly on the topic of Regulus' good mood. "You want any codeine? I keep some for Quidditch injuries and the occasional really bad headache," Regulus offered, digging around in drawer of his bedside table for the pills.

"I'm fine," Barty replied unconvincingly. Regulus ignored him and tossed the bottle in his friend's direction. It landed on the bed, but Barty didn't move to retrieve them. He'd likely decide after half an hour that painkillers weren't a bad idea. "Reg, I don't need your pills."

"Yes, you do," Regulus corrected. Honestly, couldn't Barty tell that feeling bad enough to just lie around in bed all day was not normal? And now Regulus was dripping water all over everything. Damn. Well, at least he'd missed his book.

"…Why are you wet?" Barty asked, apparently just noticing. "Did you jump in the lake?"

"Nah," Regulus replied, gathering a dry set of clothes from his things. The t-shirt he had left was a bit ridiculous, but he supposed that Slytherin as a whole would just have to deal with him dressing like he wanted to for a day. "I was caught in the rain. It's really coming down out there, but I have to admit I did consider going for a swim. It's not like my clothes would have become any more wet, and it has been a while."

Regulus started to strip off the aforementioned wet clothes. Barty stayed silent for a moment before asking, "But _why_ are you wet? What happened to umbrella charms?"

Regulus paused, having managed to remove his shirt and jeans, the latter of which had been a pain in the ass to take off. "Well, I kinda left my wand here. I didn't think I'd go for a walk, you know," he explained, a little embarrassed. He absentmindedly was trying to take a sock off as he continued, "And I knew it was drizzling, but I didn't think it was going to start pouring. I don't regret it, anyway. I mean, it's pretty beautiful outside right now."

"The view in here is beautiful as well," Barty argued foggily. Regulus had to agree that the view of the lake was pretty breathtaking.

"I suppose," Regulus admitted grudgingly right before he overbalanced and fell over trying to remove the damned sock. "Shit!" he exclaimed on reflex. Deciding it was probably the best course of action to take off the other sock while sitting down, Regulus continued, "I mean, yeah, the lake's pretty and all, but on the surface… I dunno. I guess I just like the bright green of the grass against the grey sky."

Barty was silent for a moment before he murmured, "Right. Merlin, maybe I should take some of those damned pills. They should knock me out, right?"

Regulus was drying himself off with a towel as he replied, "Yeah, they should. I mean, they knock me right out, but I tend to say some ridiculous shit as they're kicking in." He quickly switched his wet boxers for a new pair of pants and slipped on the dry pair of jeans before walking over to Barty. "You need any water or anything? I know you didn't have anything for breakfast, and I could go get you something from the kitchens," Regulus offered.

"I, uh, I'm fine," Barty managed, looking even more under the weather than he had earlier. Maybe Barty was coming down with something in addition to the migraine, because he looked a little flushed. "I've a glass of water. Should be enough for the pills."

Regulus frowned and said, "Well, if you change your mind, just say something. I'm going to go downstairs and read for a bit, all right?"

Barty nodded and replied somewhat incoherently. Regulus chose not to comment as he slipped his t-shirt on and grabbed his book. "I hope you feel better," he mentioned right before he left. Barty said something that was muffled by his pillow but likely was about how loud the lights and Regulus were, so Regulus turned the lights in the dorm off as he left.

Downstairs, Regulus curled up in the chair closest to the fire and reflected that today had been much better than yesterday. That it was a weekend helped immensely, but he was just glad that he didn't seem to be as upset today as he had been last night. He never understood why some days he would feel fine and then other days he wished awful things on himself. Truth be told, he scared himself when he felt like that. Those urges terrified him more than he would admit.

But today was better.

Smiling to himself, he opened his book and started reading. After a couple hours, the warmth from the fire managed to capture Regulus in its soporific grasp, and he fell asleep, more or less at peace for now.


	3. Play With Fire

Follows "Love on the Rocks" in **Little Voice**.

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><p>Regulus woke up feeling like absolute shite. He really shouldn't have skipped lunch to read. He knew this was what would happen. There wasn't any severe pressure on his left temple yet, but he knew that if he let this go any farther he would need to take one of those damned codeine pills himself. He probably should have put them back after Barty took however many he did for that migraine of his. Hopefully Barty would be awake or at least semi-conscious now, so he could tell Regulus where his pills were.<p>

Regulus weakly stood and swayed a bit on his feet as he realized that Barty was passed out on the floor with a bottle of firewhiskey. Was he bleeding? And there was a … what was the word? Regulus struggled to think of what the word was. The thing was—It was—Regulus gave up trying to think of the word and pocketed it. Whatever it was, Barty would probably need it at some point. Regulus gently extracted the firewhiskey bottle from his friend's grasp. Barty apparently wasn't passed out as he looked to see who was absconding with—taking the bottle away. Shit. He already couldn't remember words.

"What the fuck happened?" Regulus asked him, having serious issues focusing. He really wishing his mind wasn't so cloudy. This was why he hated these stupid fucking headaches. They always came with these stupid ancillary symptoms. And why in the hell could he remember _that_ word and not—Goddamn it, he still couldn't remember the fucking word! Between this and the fact that Barty was completely smashed and bleeding like a pig on the floor, Regulus felt like curling up on the floor and crying.

"Nothin'," Barty replied, sounding absolutely shitfaced. Barty looked like such a wreck. What in the name of God had set Barty off? Oh, right. That letter from the jackass that happened to share half his DNA with Barty. Regulus hated Barty's father. The bastard always treated Barty like he was some animal to be shown off. It wasn't fair to him. Regulus realized before he forgot that he needed to fix that damned—word, what was it—wound. An _aguamenti_ in Barty's face couldn't hurt, anyway. Regulus couldn't carry his friend upstairs; he needed Barty to help. Barty looked somewhat indignant when Regulus did cast the water spell in his face, but he didn't say anything when Regulus followed it up with a first-aid spell (he was just glad he remembered it).

"C'mon. Le's go upstairs," Regulus said, slurring his words a little and wincing as the pain in his temple started to _hurt_. He needed to get Barty upstairs before he couldn't concentrate anymore. Ha. Funny. He couldn't think right already, and now he couldn't—Oh, God, why didn't Barty say anything? Feeling nauseous, Regulus half-dragged his friend to his feet. Barty was listing into Regulus's side, but at least he was standing.

"You're a right idiot," Barty declared as Regulus more or less helped him back to their dormitory. It wasn't that late, because everyone seemed to be at dinner. Regulus managed to guide his friend back to bed, but Barty just stood, swaying a bit, when they arrived. "You need to hide the booze," he mentioned very seriously. "I hid most of it, but some's still left."

Regulus glanced at the bottle he was still holding. It was three-quarters empty. "You drank the whole bottle?" he accused, feeling like he was going to vomit. Oh, God, he needed to lie down. Maybe that would stop the pressure building in his head? It would make him feel better, in any case? No. He had to make sure Barty was awake—he meant not… poisoned—first. Yes. Letter! That was the word Regulus had been looking for! Letter.

However, while Regulus had his revelation, Barty had passed out on his bed. Regulus just stared for a moment before likewise collapsing. Barty wouldn't mind if he took a brief nap, would he? No. He wouldn't. No—no, he had to stay awake. Awake. Because Barty might have alcohol poisoning. He probably did have alcohol poisoning.

Regulus groaned as his temple started to feel like it was in a vice. Where the hell was his codeine? He spotted the pill-bottle on the bed next to Barty. Wait, what? Oh, shit, was Barty breathing? Regulus was not equipped to deal with this sort of thing. He felt for a pulse and found one, thanks be to Asclepius. Muggles had some sort of thing they did when someone wasn't breathing. It was the—the kissing thing. Kiss of life? No, that sounded wrong. Shit. The… The name didn't matter. What was he supposed to do? Air goes in lungs. So breath for other person. Yes, that had to be it. Regulus just hoped to God that one of their roommates didn't walk in. They might get the wrong conclusion.

Regulus continued to do whatever it was called until Barty was breathing on his own again. He was supposed to lay him on his side, right? Right. That way he didn't drown in puke. Wait. Why the hell was Barty so cold? Had he done something stupid like sitting outside drinking until he passed out? Regulus couldn't even fucking remember how to fix any of that shit except acting as a space-heater.

Grabbing one of the blankets off the bed, Regulus curled up next to his friend. He again hoped to high heaven that none of their dormmates bore witness to this. Also that Barty didn't wake up and wonder what in the hell was going on. Regulus could imagine his friend freaking out all too easily. A stab of pain in his head brought him back to the task at hand. He needed to make sure Barty didn't stop breathing again. Regulus knew he couldn't deal with that a second time. Oh, God, Regulus just wanted to go to sleep. He hurt just lying there in one place, doing nothing. It wasn't the same kind of pain as his headache. It was that weird pain he only got sometimes that seemed like the only way to fix it was to move, but all he wanted to do was sleep. He couldn't even fucking focus his eyes properly.

What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he have let his best friend just—How could he not notice there was something this wrong? Oh, God, he was such a fuck-up. He couldn't even notice his friend was so upset he'd drink most of a whiskey bottle. An entire fucking bottle! What the hell? Barty wasn't the one that was supposed to do stupid shit like this. He was the dependable one. He was the one that didn't feel all fucked-up inside. Hell, he deserved a better goddamned friend than Regulus.

Clinging to his friend for dear life, Regulus felt like such a hypocrite. He had caused all of this somehow, and now he was lying next to his best friend and crying his eyes out because he'd caused all of it. He was using Barty to make himself feel better even though the entire reason he was there was to make sure his friend didn't… Regulus couldn't even think the word to himself. Oh, God, he was so fucking scared, but this was his own goddamn fault.

He should have known Barty was upset. In fact, he had! He had known, and he still just wandered about all day before reading a book and taking a bloody nap! He should have made sure Barty was okay and not just nattered on about the weather after he wandered around the castle, completely drenched. He shouldn't have read that bloody book and instead looked after his friend. Then maybe he'd know how to make Barty feel better. Regulus didn't want Barty to try this sort of idiocy ever again. _Ever_.

What the hell was so good about liquor anyway? It was okay for about five minutes, and then he always just started to feel like he did when he wanted to stay in bed for days at a time. It didn't make any sense. It was awful. He understood why people liked things like codeine. That just made him stop thinking, and if it didn't, then he wasn't sad anyway. Not that he had ever taken it for that reason. Regulus shivered and closed his eyes. No. He did not want to think about this. He wasn't going to take any of those pills. He couldn't. Despite the pain—oh, God, why hadn't he taken something before he came to this conclusion?

Regulus choked back a sob. He didn't want to think about this, but his head hurt so bad and he couldn't think. No. No, he wasn't going to think about it. He didn't want to take the pills. He didn't. Besides, he couldn't! He had to make sure Barty was okay! So he couldn't take the pills. Thank God. Regulus glanced at where he had left the firewhiskey. He needed to get rid of that, too. Barty would be safe for a couple minutes, right? He was still breathing okay, so…

Having decided to take the chance, Regulus took the bottle of firewhiskey and put it in plain sight in the common room. Someone else would take it, probably one of the fifth years or older. The fourth years and lower had been scared into submission by the sevenths, so at least he wouldn't have that on his conscience. Running back upstairs, Regulus remembered the other reason he had been curled up on Barty's bed.

Barty. Wait, the letter. If Barty had been that drunk, then maybe he had written a letter to his father. That would tell Regulus what was wrong, wouldn't it? Normally, Barty didn't let the bastard get to him, but maybe something had happened this time? No—looking at the letter would be a terrible invasion of privacy. Regulus knew he should probably have just tossed it in the fire while he had been in the common room, but then again, he would have had to have remembered. Wait, that wasn't proper English. Had to have remembered? Have had to remember? Regulus groaned again. Thinking shouldn't be this hard.

Barty was still passed out. Also breathing. So, Regulus returned to his post. He shouldn't read the bloody letter. He shouldn't. He grit his teeth as the pain moved to his left temple. Wait, no. That was where the headache started. Dammit. He grit his teeth and tried to think—

Fuck it. Regulus took the letter out of his pocket and read the damn thing. His head was splitting, but he understood what was written despite the poor penmanship and questionable grammar. He couldn't think of the fucking word for—shit, what was that word—but he could think that clearly at the same time? He could think of that but not—No. The letter. It said…

The blood drained from Regulus' face. What…? Barty felt that way about him? Why had he never said anything? Regulus felt his face flush when he realized what else the letter meant. Last night, Barty hadn't been upset. Oh, God, he couldn't ever let his friend know he read this letter. Regulus should have listened to himself and not read the letter, either. Not because of… He just shouldn't have violated Barty's privacy like this. He could _never_ tell Barty about this.

Maybe he shouldn't have discarded the booze. Now would be a great time to drink himself into oblivion. He—how could Barty think he didn't care? Of course Regulus cared! For fuck's sake, Barty was his best friend! He loved him!

He loved him. Regulus knew in his heart it wasn't the kind of love Barty deserved, though. Sure, Regulus had occasionally had … dreams, but that was just his mind being weird, as usual. He couldn't think about this. Not now. Grabbing the codeine bottle, Regulus took out … more pills than he should have. He sat there, staring in horror at his hand, and started to hyperventilate. No, he had to just put them back. What reason was there for him to—One pill. That's the dose he needed. It would be enough to take the edge off. That's all he needed.

Regulus drank some water from the glass on Barty's bedside table to wash the pill down. He might regret that later. Taking one of those pills on an empty stomach, he meant. And he knew he was just distracting himself. Barty was in love with him? How in the hell had Regulus missed that? Maybe he was just too fucking stupid to notice. Was he really that self-absorbed? That he couldn't tell that his best friend was attracted to him? Sure, Regulus had kind of suspected Barty batted for the other team, but this? He sure as hell had not expected this.

But then again, maybe Regulus did feel the same way? Fuck, he'd assumed up to this point he was more or less asexual, but maybe that was just because he wasn't looking in the right place? No, he couldn't think down that path. He couldn't. Could he?

What if he really did feel that way about Barty? What if—

_Sobrius_. The sobering charm.

Quickly, Regulus cast it on his friend and burned the letter with an _incendio_ right after. Then, he moved to the end of the bed and curled up in a ball, waiting for his friend to come to.

"Eugh. Why do I feel like I ate a brillo pad and washed it down with vomit?" Barty said, no longer passed out from the alcohol.

"You drank a bottle of firewhiskey," Regulus murmured, still sitting at the end of the bed. Oh, God, he didn't want to think right now. Not with this going on.

Barty furrowed his eyebrows, concerned. "Reg, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Regulus replied. He couldn't think, and he couldn't say anything. He bit his lip, hoping that Barty would just drop it. Regulus had been so fucking scared. Barty had almost died, couldn't he see that? So why in the hell was Barty worried about him?

Barty was suspicious and scooted over next to his friend. "Reg, you don't look like nothing's wrong," he said, looking concerned. How could he still be concerned? How? Regulus was an awful person. What the hell did Barty see in him? What did anyone seee in him? "Regulus. What's wrong?" Barty repeated, now suspicious. Regulus tried to think of a way to get Barty to stop asking about him. There wasn't any reason Barty should give a damn about him. Oh, God, he wasn't going to start crying again. "I swear, if you—"

Regulus kissed him.


	4. Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad

Follows "Bottle It Up" in **Little Voice**.

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><p>Oh, God, what the hell did he just do? Okay, so the snogging that was at least semi-planned, but the clinging? Not as much. And that noise he made when Barty had grabbed his arms? Yeah, totally unplanned.<p>

And now it had just occurred to Regulus that maybe that damned note (which he shouldn't have read) hadn't been the truth. Maybe Barty had written what he had to piss off his father. If that were the case, then how in the hell was Regulus ever going to be able to look his friend in the eye ever again?

"Reg, mate, you've gotta explain," Barty said all of a sudden. He was still holding Regulus away, which was likely the only reason Regulus hadn't bolted. This question wasn't one that Regulus was really prepared to answer. He didn't even know why himself. He could blame the drugs or he could blame the fact that he'd been terrified for the past hour that his friend might die, but neither of those were really true. So, instead of answering, Regulus continued to stare at the floor. Maybe if he didn't say anything, Barty would just accept it as him doing something ridiculous, and the two of them could just forget this whole thing every happened and get on with their lives. The thought was laughable, and so Regulus only felt awful.

"What was all that about?" Barty prompted neutrally. That was never good news. Regulus knew what neutral tones preceded. Well, it was due time that Regulus lost what few friends he had left, wasn't it? "Reg, come on. Tell me what happened," Barty pleaded.

Regulus shut his eyes, willing everything to just go away. It didn't work, but Barty had stopped holding his arms. What in the name of God was he supposed to say? What could he say? There wasn't anything that could make this better, was there? _Was there?_ He put his hand on the back of his neck, miraculously feeling even more nervous and awful than before. Hhad no idea when he had started to speak even as the words came out: "Nothing happened, Barty. I just—" He cut himself off. No, he was not going to lie. Not to Barty. Lowering his arm again, he stared straight down and admitted, "I read your letter, and I—I don't even know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't blame you if you never forgave me. Fuck, I deserve it. I understand if you never want to speak to me again."

"Reg," Barty interrupted. Regulus heard the sharp edge in his tone and braced himself for the inevitable. "Reg, are you talking about the letter I wrote while I was drinking that bottle of firewhiskey you mentioned?" he demanded, his voice shaking with anger.

Regulus could only nod mutely. He was such a coward. Maybe he should try to say something? Knowing he was probably about to fuck up things farther, Regulus murmured, resigned to the fact that he was going to lose his best friend once and for all, "Barty, listen. I know how you feel, and I—" _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive me. I'll do anything you want me to. Anything._

"No," Barty growled.

That was it, then, wasn't it? Regulus turned away, hoping to God that Barty didn't notice him starting to break down. The last thing that Regulus needed to do was accidentally make Barty pity him. In the end, this was for the best, wasn't it? After a false start, Regulus managed to begin, "Barty, I—"

"No."

"Just—"

"No." The number three was important, wasn't it? Like in that fairy story with the three brothers. He expected nothing more or less than this, really.

"Will you listen?" Regulus begged, trying to at least have Barty stop for one moment to let him say he understood, that he'd never bother Barty ever again. That this was all a big mistake, and nothing he said was ever going to undo it. But, maybe Barty needed to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

"No, Reg!" Barty shouted at him. Regulus flinched. "No. I'm not listening to this! It's bullshit!" he continued harshly, sounding angrier than Regulus had heard in a long time. Barty moved away from him on the bed, which Regulus didn't begrudge him. He wouldn't want to be near anyone who treated him like shit, either.

Frozen in his spot, Regulus only sat where he was and took the abuse. He deserved all of it. On the bright side, maybe Barty would hate him now. Then at least he wouldn't have to deal with having a crush on someone who wasn't even worthy of… Regulus tried to muffle the sounds of his crying. He felt like a bloody fool for feeling this damned emotional, but he couldn't stop.

"We are _friends_, Reg," Barty continued, but Regulus doubted that Barty would still think so in the morning. "Friends. Nothing else: not more, not less. I am _not_ going to fuck that up. Not for me, and sure as _shit_ not for you." No, Barty wouldn't ever risk that, but Regulus wasn't anywhere near as smart or stable to remember or even know how to do something like that. It was a bloody miracle that anyone still liked him, felt anything for him.

Brusquely, Barty snapped, "You _like_ me, Reg. You do _not_ love me." Regulus considered protesting, but his definition of love was different than what he was referring to. So, in a way, Barty was right, and Regulus had no right to say differently. "I don't have tits or red hair, so I'm out of the running," Barty continued cuttingly. "I know. I get that. Don't wave it around in my face like I'm as oblivious as you are, because I'm not."

"I know," Regulus murmured, unable to really say anything else. "I should just leave you alone. You don't need to worry about me ever—" He broke off, unable to continue. Regulus looked up, wondering if he should say anything else, but he noticed that Barty had stood and was making to leave when he started to fall over. Regulus immediately stood and made to help steady him, but Barty shoved him away. He fell backwards into the side of the bed.

"Don't _touch_ me, Reg," Barty growled, barely even glancing in his direction, before he stalked out of the dormitory.

Regulus just sat where he had landed, staring at the place that his friend had been. What had he done? He let himself sob quietly for a while before he gathered himself together and stood. He walked over to his bed and sat down. He sighed and was about to try and go to sleep when he noticed Rosier was awake. Now he did not feel like convincing Evan to keep his mouth shut. "Say anything about Barty, and I'll fucking kill you," Regulus threatened darkly. At the moment, he bloody felt like he could actually make good on the threat.

"Wasn't gonna," Evan squeaked, seeming scared for some weird reason.

Satisfied with that, Regulus went to lie down when he remembered that his codeine bottle was over on Barty's bed. With a sigh, he wandered back over to Barty's bed and grabbed the pill bottle. He stared at it for a long moment. He wanted to drop the bottle where it was and run as far away from it as possible, but he continued to hold it.

Not really knowing what he was going to do, Regulus left the dorm-room and made his way to the common room. Barty was sitting next the fire with his back to Regulus, so the younger man ran as quick as he could outside. In the halls, Regulus wandered around the castle for what seemed like an hour before coming to a stop in the Astronomy Tower.

He wandered over to the window and looked out at the night sky. It was beautiful, really. Gorgeous, to be honest. Why couldn't everything else be like that? The stars probably didn't feel pain. Legend said many of them had been people once, individuals the gods had favored over the others. Well, others had been loathed by the gods, but their fate had been the same. The most loved and most hated were in one place, alone and austere for the rest of eternity. The most loved deserved that rest, and the most hated were tortured with the loneliness. The rest rotted in the underworld or were tortured in Tartarus, save the few favored enough to spend the rest of eternity in the Islands of the Blessed.

He didn't want to spend the rest of eternity in Hel, but it was starting to look like the preferable alternative. Or would he be sent to Perdition? He didn't deserve Limbo or anything better. Valhalla was for warriors, the Isles of the Blessed for the virtuous, and Heaven for…

Regulus looked down at the bottle of pills again. No one would mind, would they? Mum and Dad would. Sirius … he might, but he had Potter, and Regulus trusted Potter to make sure Sirius was okay. Sev probably wouldn't give a damn, Barty was better off, and everyone else likely wouldn't notice.

Maybe if he just took enough to dull the pain? To make everything stop hurting? But even if his parents would care that he had… Everyone would still be better off. Mum and Dad would have to mend the bridges between them and Sirius, and Sirius would finally be able to just get on with his life. No one could ever accuse him of being on the side of the war their cousin was on if Sirius only had friends who were obviously on the right side.

It would also neatly solve Barty's problem.

Regulus started laughing nervously. Oh, God, he was really contemplating this. He had means, motive, and opportunity, and he was really contemplating this. It would only take a couple pills, wouldn't it? He should probably add alcohol to the mix, just in case. It lessened drug metabolism, didn't it? Or at least it changed it.

Regulus continued to stare at the pills, but finally, he made his decision.


	5. Many Shades Of Black

Follows "Come 'Round Soon" in **Little Voice**.

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><p>Regulus sighed as he walked back into the Common Room. He couldn't just take the easy way out. Besides, he'd just remembered something Potter had said to Sirius a couple summers back, when Sirius had been devastated over that thing with Lupin. Potter said rather nonsensically that Sirius would regret killing himself for the rest of his life. The absurdity in the statement was just too much, and it was just enough to snap Regulus out of his funk.<p>

Regulus looked to see if Barty was still there, sitting in front of the fire. Thank God he had gone there. Barty had likely had hypothermia, and while Regulus had tried his best to fix that, he doubted that that hour of lying next to him in bed had really helped. However, Barty wasn't there. Neither was the booze. Strange.

With a grimace, Regulus started to walk over to where his friend had been. Barty really should not have left his place in front of the fire. Okay, Barty was sober now, so he probably would have realized that booze was bad and fire was good. Well, an external heat source was good. So where could he have gone? He probably went to bed, Regulus decided.

Regulus was about to walk to their dormitory when he heard some voices. Eugh, it was those jackass seventh years who were always sneaking firewhiskey into the castle. Regulus glanced to where he had left the mostly empty bottle. It was gone. Well, lovely. He had aided and abetted jackasses drinking themselves stupid.

"Ha, idiot thinks he can steal from us," one of them laughed.

Regulus didn't need more than that to put together what had happened. They had realized Barty was the one who had nicked the bottle. Of course, they couldn't have known that Barty sitting in front of the fire and the bottle were connected. Anyone in Slytherin could have nicked it and then replaced it. Whatever had happened to justice?

Remembering he did in fact have his wand on him, Regulus interrupted innocently, "Excuse me, have you seen my friend? He was sitting here a while back."

The three drunken students turned to stare at Regulus. "Your friend?" the one who had spoken previously repeated. He snorted. "No. Sorry. Maybe he just buggered off somewhere. Who knows? And even if he had been here when we left, why should we have even noticed?"

"I have no idea," Regulus replied lightly. "But then again, we're supposedly the house of cunning, although I do believe a Ravenclaw once said that while they were supposedly full of wit, Slytherin was full of something that rhymes with wit. That said, your brains seem to be utterly exemplifying the latter as opposed to what we are supposed to be. Cunning, that is. Just in case you weren't following."

Only the youngest of the three seemed to have processed what Regulus said. He also looked the least drunk, which figured seeing as the seventh years would have taken the lion's share of the remaining firewhiskey. The younger student's eyes widened, but he kept his mouth shut. Good on him.

"Are you calling us liars?" the remaining student asked angrily. He started to draw his wand. So that one was impatient and prone to acting over thought. Regulus understood that behavior. He'd seen it enough with his brother, but Sirius at least had sensible friends.

Regulus raised an eyebrow and corrected flatly, "No. I'm calling you shitheads." So. The leader seemed to be the smarter of the two older students. He only narrowed his eyes when Regulus said that. The idiot actually drew his wand, but the leader pushed his arm down from an attack stance. The younger one just glanced between the two older students, probably calculating whether or not to bolt or stay and fight. Of course, the cost-benefit analysis would make him choose between getting his ass kicked by two people he knew the limits of or getting his ass kicked by a wild card that apparently felt confident enough to practically challenge three other people to a duel. The long and short of the matter was that Regulus was going to have to goad the leader into a fight if he wanted to claim self-defense on this and be excused from blame by the teachers. He didn't want to be given detention, after all.

"Excuse me?" the leader demanded icily. He kept one of his hands near his wand as a threat. Regulus was unimpressed.

"I said that I was calling you shitheads. If some firstie had been there, would you have dragged her out and beaten her?" Regulus demanded, knowing damn well that the accusation would elicit a response that would confirm or deny his theory. Well, if they denied all involvement, then Regulus would have to admit that he was going to have to fight them off or get the stuffing kicked out of him for nothing.

"A firstie wouldn't have stolen our firewhiskey," the idiot retorted, sounding superior.

"You didn't even have any proof, did you?" Regulus said, disgusted.

"What more proof did we need?" the leader asked in a tone that was edging towards hostile. There was probably a threat buried in there, but Regulus didn't particularly care. "The whiskey was there, as was the sixth year. Why in the hell else would you be up at this hour?"

Regulus didn't have a good answer to that, but his problem was that Barty _had_ filched the alcohol. He was guilty, but that wasn't the point. The point was that these idiots didn't even have enough brains to realize there could have been another possibility. "Because he and I had a fucking argument," Regulus replied, knowing the excuse was flimsy. They had argued because Barty had given himself alcohol poisoning and then Regulus had gone and been too damn inquisitive for his own good. "The bottle was down here before I left." Because he had put it there, but that was beside the point.

"Oh, yeah? Why doesn't that sound any more likely than what really happened?" the idiot asked rhetorically. To the leader, he suggested, "He was probably in on it."

Finally. It had taken long enough for one of them to come to that conclusion. Now Regulus could say that whatever fight ensued was their fault. Of course, knowing the spaz attack his parents would have when they found out about this, he probably would have been in the clear anyway. So. _Impedimentia_ on the fifth-year. Then a _silencio_ on the leader. Duel the idiot. By then, the _silencio_ could have worn off, so he could take on the leader. The fifth-year was a non-entity, really. The kid obviously didn't want to be involved in this anymore.

"I wasn't. I was reading in here all day," Regulus protested, adding a little hysteria to his voice. Wouldn't hurt to let them think he was scared. Okay, so he was, but that was beside the point. After all, hadn't Sev sometimes schooled Potter and Sirius? Well, not without everyone involved being sent to the Hospital Wing, but Regulus was willing to go that far.

The idiot and the leader shared a look, and Regulus hit the floor as a pair spells were sent at him. Well, there went his plan. Crap. Regulus scrambled behind a couch for some cover. Wait, Sirius had mentioned a spell that the Aurors swore by in one of his last letters. _Incarcerous_? No, but that was likewise useful. Oh, right: _stupefy_. First the sobering charm and now a spell to knock people out. Was there anything he didn't rely on his brother for?

Regulus discovered that the fifth-year wasn't as innocent as he suspected when the younger student took a shot at him. An _immoblius_, if he wasn't mistaken. Well, that would have ended this party real quick. Regulus was happy to be hospitalized in the name of vengeance, but there was no way in hell he was going to simply have his ass kicked. Actually, now that he thought about it, this nonsense could be quite the reputation coup if he took out one of the seventh years. Well, he would have no problem with that. Sure, Regulus was the weakest dueler among the five cousins, but the gage he was referring to was a bit skewed, seeing as Narcissa and Sirius were about equal and Andromeda hadn't lost to Bellatrix since she was fifteen. Regardless, Regulus cast _stupefy_ at the fifth-year, who didn't seem to understand the concept of cover. The thought occurred to him as the kid fell over that the fifth-year was a distraction.

Regulus wasn't able to put a shield up in time to block the curse the leader sent at him. The idiot was probably going to attack from where the fifth-year had been, if he knew anything about unfair fights. The cutting curse the leader had hit him with hurt like hell, but it had only grazed his side. In response, Regulus put up a shield to prevent an attack from the idiot and cast a real cutting curse at the leader. He knew enough about _sectumsempra_ to know exactly where to hit the seventh year and make sure it wasn't fatal. Sev's spell was pretty damn amazing when he considered it. Also, it had the same sorts of effects as more powerful and complex curses.

The seventh-year seemed only angry and cast a couple spells that Regulus had only heard Bellatrix use. Somewhat detachedly, Regulus wondered if she had taught the seventh-year the spells, if he could find a death's head and snake branded on the older boy's arm. He fell to the ground, unable to stand. This was usually where Bellatrix would scoff, call him a weakling, and pick on her younger sister or his brother next.

However, then the idiot attacked. The leader cast _silencio_ on Regulus in the same breath as the idiot cast _crucio_. Regulus could have laughed if not for the fact that the spells the leader had used were so painful. The Cruciatus was pathetic. Bellatrix used worse when she was mildly annoyed, although Regulus had only incurred her wrath enough for her to use the spell once. He planned on never repeating the experience.

Despite all of the pain and the silencing charm, Regulus chanced trying to silently cast another _stupefy_. He could have sighed in relief when the idiot fell to the floor, but then the leader kicked him. Regulus honestly should have expected to have the stuffing knocked out of him the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately for the remaining seventh-year, the silencing spell wore off as he cast yet another curse on the younger student, and the whole dorm was greeted with the sound of Regulus Black screaming bloody murder.

The silencing spell went back on him almost instantaneously, but Regulus was counting on Horace Slughorn's illustrious inability to sleep through loud noises to come to his rescue. Seriously, Bellatrix was less cruel when pissed off. Okay, not really. When she was mildly annoyed, which is honestly as far as it ever got with Regulus. She would get annoyed at Sirius, but he fought back.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF SALAZAR SLYTHERIN IS GOING ON HERE?" Professor Slughorn demanded, looking thoroughly like a walrus. That was Barty's fault, Regulus comparing Slughorn to a walrus. From first year. He thought. Maybe it was second year?

Oh! Good news! The seventh-year had stopped using Regulus as a punching bag! That bastard was in so much trouble. Regulus, however, was likely not, seeing as he used non-hurt-y spells except for that cutting curse, but in the light of the seventh-year's injuries versus Regulus's, the competition was next to nil.

"Hullo, Professor. You're looking very walrus-y tonight," Regulus rambled more or less incoherently. On the bright side, he had painkillers on him! Ha! Score two for Black!

"Professor Slughorn, he attacked us," the seventh-year lied. He also said some things about provoking them, etc., but Regulus wasn't really paying attention. Slughorn was looking more and more walrus-like as the seventh-year continued, and when it looked like someone had stolen Slughorn the Walrus's bucket of fish, Regulus piped in, "C'mon, Pr'fess'r, I'm no Gryffindor. Why would any self-respecting Slytherin do something this batshit stupid?"

The answer, of course, was that Regulus was a vengeful, vengeful bastard, but Professor Slughorn didn't need to know that.


	6. Gotta Get Up From Here

So... I love Orion. It's just a thing. ANYWAY. This chapter follows "Next Stop, Vegas Please" in **Little Voice**.

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><p>Regulus awoke to the disapproving stare of his father. He had been in the Hospital Wing since the night before when Slughorn dragged him and the injured seventh-year there. Madame Pomfrey hadn't been too pleased with Regulus for casting what he had on the seventh-year, but she had clearly been even less pleased with the plethora of things the seventh-year had cast on him. She had managed to cast all of the requisite counter-curses except for the cutting curse. That would have to heal up on its own, which was why Regulus was lucky it hadn't cut deeper. Regardless, Madame Pomfrey had deemed him unable to leave the Hospital Wing until tomorrow morning, just in case.<p>

And apparently contacted Orion Black. Who was staring at Regulus. With disapproval.

"Hi, Dad," Regulus squeaked. He was not happy in the slightest that his father was here, because if he was here, then Slughorn had probably already intercepted him and given him the full story. So his dad would be really, really angry. Maybe if he explained himself, his father wouldn't be as angry? "Um, I'm sorry I got in a fight," he apologized involuntarily. Okay, so the look of disapproval hurt infinitely more than anything else his father could have done.

His father sighed and said, "Regulus, I honestly expected more of you. Starting a fight?" He shook his head. "This is the sort of nonsense I expect from your brother, not you."

Regulus knew that. He lowered his eyes and played with his shirt-cuff, knowing it was better for him to let his father lecture him than interrupt. Mostly because these lectures ended with his father telling him never to do it again and leaving it at that. Still, they never stopped making Regulus feel guilty. And this time, he really needed to explain himself.

Regulus looked up to do just that, but he realized his father's eyes were narrowed. "Young man, who cast _that_ curse on you?" he demanded, making Regulus realize his father wasn't angry with him. This sort of simmering anger Regulus had only seen in his father a couple times, and one of them had been when he had caught Bellatrix casting the same curse he was referring to on Sirius.

"Dad, it wasn't anything. Really. I—I provoked them," Regulus stammered. Why was he defending those bastards? Oh, right, his father was scaring the hell out of him. "They—they hurt Barty, and I was so angry that I got them to attack me so I could get them in trouble, and I didn't really get hurt, Dad. I'm fine. Really. It's not worth getting worked up about."

His father seemed to school his emotions at that and started to look almost distressed. "Kiddo, I—," he started, sounding upset even, before he paused and revised gently, "Reggie, it doesn't matter that you 'provoked' them. I wouldn't care even if you'd cast the first spell. Or punched first. For future reference, the latter is more emotionally satisfying. However, one of them cast an _Unforgivable_. You have the cruciatus written all over you. The mild tremor, increased startle response, emotional hypersensitivity. You shouldn't cover for who did this."

"Nothing happened, Dad," Regulus replied. He wasn't going to get someone sent to Azkaban because of a drunken brawl.

"Regulus."

The tone of voice his father used made Regulus look down in shame. "It was just a mistake, Dad. He probably didn't mean—" he murmured.

"Which one?" his father demanded not unkindly.

"The idiot," Regulus replied. That's what he got for trying to lie to his father.

His father sighed and mentioned, "Young man, you have to be more specific."

"The seventh-year with shit for brains," Regulus elucidated, realizing too late that he had just cursed in front of his father. And Madame Pomfrey and—OH, GOD. Slughorn wasn't here, was he? He had called Slughorn a walrus to his face, and he was never going to be able to speak to his teacher ever again. _Ever_. And it didn't help that he had said 'shit' in front of his father, either. His mother would have made him wash his mouth out with soap. Or told him to keep up the good work, depending on her mood.

Regulus's father may have been trying not to grin. Regulus couldn't quite tell. What was funny? Nothing here was funny. "Of course. The one with shit for brains," his father repeated, clearly amused by something. "Does he have a name?"

"Yes," Regulus replied. Of course the idiot had a nam—Oh. Right. "But I don't know it."

His father looked unsurprised about that, but he changed the subject. "I heard your brother must have given you some advice. I'm proud of your restraint," his father mentioned offhandedly. "Regardless of how the fight began, you tried to end it properly. Just next time, start with the stunning spell if someone attacks you."

"I'm not going to go looking for another fight, Dad. I—I didn't really meant to get into this one," Regulus admitted. Was he really going to tell his father this? Yes. He was. He had to. "I, um, I was really, really upset last night, and then when I got back—"

"Define upset," his father said, concerned. He had a right, after all, what with Sirius…

"Like how Sirius was. Before he left," Regulus murmured. "It's been getting worse. I'm really scared, Dad. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I'll tell Madame Pomfrey to give you something, all right? No one else has to know if you don't want them to," his father told him. "If… Regulus, if you ever feel like that again, go talk to someone, anyone. Minnie's fond of you, and I know she wouldn't mind."

It took Regulus a moment to realize that his father was talking about Professor McGonagall. "McGoogles? I mean, Professor McGonagall?" Regulus repeated, just to make sure he had heard his father properly.

His father replied, attempting and failing to keep a straight face, "Yes, Regulus. Talk to—I can't even say it. Really? McGoogles? You and your brother, I swear to God…" He shook his head ruefully before continuing, "Look, Reggie, just concentrate on getting well, okay? I have to go. I have an appointment with the head of the DMLE. I would have pushed it back, but—"

"Mr. Crouch is an asshole," Regulus finished.

"Yeah. That," his father admitted. He smiled sadly and ruffled Regulus's hair. "Get well, okay, kiddo?" Regulus nodded, and his dad said goodbye. And Regulus felt like crying again. Madame Pomfrey floated over shortly and started talking to him about stuff he could do to not feel so sad all the time. She mentioned that there were some potions that had been found to improve moods, but she would have to dispense them to him because of the potential for misuse.

Regulus worked something out with her, finally deciding he would take the potion on Sunday mornings when no one else was up. He knew Madame Pomfrey felt sorry for him. Granted, she felt sorrier for Barty, who Regulus knew was somewhere around here. Everything that had happened to Barty was Regulus' fault. He shouldn't have left that damn bottle there, and he shouldn't have… Well, there were a lot of things he shouldn't have done last night.

Madame Pomfrey startled him out of his train of thought when she mentioned, "You did a nice job with the sobering charm, Mr. Black; although, I don't know how you became so adept at it." Regulus froze. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to say anything in regards to the altercation you were in last night. Last I checked, there was a large difference between a stunner and beating someone half to death."

"Thank you," Regulus murmured, wishing she hadn't brought it up.

"Has this been happening frequently?" Pomfrey inquired, figuring she could draw some more information out of him.

"No," Regulus murmured. "Barty just was really upset yesterday." Madame Pomfrey was thankfully willing to leave it at that. "Could I see him?" he asked, cursing himself for sounding so stupid and weak.

Madame Pomfrey grimaced and replied, "It wouldn't be a good idea, Mr. Black. Not until he's conscious. By then, yes, I'll let you see him."

Regulus nodded and waited for Madame Pomfrey to do another couple of tests before she declared him free to go. He wasn't allowed to fly or play Quidditch for at least two weeks (those seventh-years were going to catch hell for putting the Slytherin seeker out of commission), and he further had been counseled to do absolutely nothing for the next couple days. Regulus, unfortunately, was nowhere near that patient. He tried to do nothing. Really, he did. He finished the book he was reading and started another before he tried to see Barty again. Pomfrey turned him away then and after dinner when he tried yet again.

On Monday, he was excused from classes by orders from Madame Pomfrey and was going stir-crazy. The other Slytherins seemed to be avoiding him now, not that he really cared. The only difference from normal was that they were actively avoiding him instead of just not noticing him. Well, except for some of them. There was a group that seemed to be stalking him, but that was mostly based on the feeling that he was being followed. And he had caught a fellow sixth-year following him around. She had made up some quite frankly bizarre excuse and practically ran off when there had been a lull in what little conversation there had been.

Of course, he visited the infirmary as frequently as he could without Madame Pomfrey sitting him down and giving him a sedative. Sometime mid-afternoon, Regulus dared talk to her again. She seemed somewhat amused and inquired, "Back again, Mr. Black? I turned you away several times yesterday after you had recovered sufficiently, and I've turned you away several times today, as well. What makes you think that this time will be any different?"

"Is he awake, Madame Pomfrey?" Regulus asked, afraid the answer would be yes. He wanted Barty to be okay, but he didn't know how to explain himself, how to explain his actions.

"Luckily for you, this time he is," Madame Pomfrey replied gently. Regulus followed her to Barty's bed, and she reminded him, "Don't stay long, though. I'll not have you working him up." More quietly, she added, "He's in a fragile state as it is."

"I understand," Regulus replied as she walked away. He sat down in a chair next to his friend's bed and stared at the floor. Oh, God, how was he going to do this? Deciding to just bite the bullet, Regulus took a deep breath and murmured, "Barty…?"

After a moment, Barty replied, sounding absolutely awful, "Reg, I don't think now's such a good time, mate."

Regulus froze. He knew that tone. Automatically, Regulus looked up and retorted vehemently, "Your dad's a bloody jackass, Barty. _He_ should have been here, badgering Madame Pomfrey day and night about you. Not just me." Embarrassed of the outburst, Regulus shut up and looked down again. He was already putting his foot in his mouth, and he hadn't even said what he meant to say. Barty still hadn't replied, so Regulus continued his voice breaking, "I'm sorry. About everything. I shouldn't have… not without… I was an idiot. I—it's—I shouldn't have left that damn bottle there. I'm so sorry. If I'd just vanished it, you wouldn't have been hurt." He took a deep breath before he admitted, "I found those bastards. I don't know if Madame Pomfrey told you, but I got in a fight with them. I've got detention for a month, but it's with Professor McGonagall, so she'll probably just make me do homework. Um, I just—I just wanted you to know. Oh, and Evan'll keep his mouth shut about … what happened. I think I might have put the fear of God in him, Merlin knows how." Regulus grimaced, wishing he wasn't still so bloody emotional. Pomfrey had said he needed to wait to go on those potions until his side healed. After a moment, he brought himself back under control and said, "So, I just wanted to say all that, all right? I—I know you're really not doing well, so I won't say anything more. You should rest, you know? And—and get better."

The silence that followed was more than Regulus could take. He couldn't even look up at his friend. He just ran.


	7. Needles And Pins

Follows "Many The Miles" in **Little Voice**.

* * *

><p>That first time he had talked to Barty after the fight, Regulus had held his tongue. He hadn't wanted to upset his friend. Oh, he had been angry, angrier than he wanted to admit, but he hadn't spoken. Over the course of the next couple days, Regulus had pleaded with Barty to tell Slughorn what had happened, but Barty kept arguing that Slytherin as a whole would mark him as a traitor. Regulus just didn't understand. He had gone to bat for Barty, fought three other students, and somehow that wasn't good enough.<p>

Regulus knew he was acting irrationally, but he couldn't help but feel that way. He felt betrayed. He felt angry. But most of all, he was confused. The students weren't even going to be kicked out. No one could prove who had attacked Barty, and it just looked like Regulus and those three had started a fight that happened to end badly. No one could say whether or not the cruciatus had really been used. Madame Pomfrey had admitted that while she believed it was the case, there was no hard and fast rule to proving it had been cast.

So Regulus was frustrated and more or less afraid of what the three students he had fought would do to him. He also hated the fact that Slytherin as a whole was giving him a wide berth. Yes, he had figured that taking on two seventh-years might cause a boost in reputation, but he hadn't thought that no one would talk to him anymore. Well, that group of girls didn't count, especially since the topics of conversation they usually stumbled upon were so inane that he wanted to go jump off a cliff. He just wanted them to go away. Well, Greengrass was okay, but she was acting really weird around him now.

Earlier in the week, Regulus had gone to talk to McGoogles to verify if what his father said was in fact correct. It was, and Regulus remained confused by that. The real point was that Regulus felt so confused that he took the opportunity to go to Hogsmeade. He had told Barty the day before, when he had tried to explain what had happened with his dad. Barty had been pleasantly surprised that Regulus was actually seeking help, which had made Regulus feel awful about his previous actions all over again.

The worst part was that he and Barty hadn't really discussed … what had happened. Barty had convinced him that he wasn't at fault for the three Slytherins attacking him, but they hadn't talked about what Regulus had done. That he had fought the three was also taboo, for some reason.

Regulus sighed and wandered past the Three Broomsticks. There was too high a probability that he might run into one of his stalkers there (or his brother). The Hogshead was really pretty grimy, but the bartender was honestly hilarious. Regulus still didn't quite understand the man's obsession with goats, but it made interesting conversation. Besides, no one would bother him in there.

That was when he saw her. It didn't matter that she was so drunk that she fell off her chair laughing. It likewise didn't matter that she had a Brooklyn accent. It didn't matter that she was wearing a ratty old t-shirt and jeans. She was beyond a doubt the most beautiful—

"You are utterly pathetic," the exact person he was trying to avoid said. Okay, so he had actually asked him to come, but that was beside the bloody point.

"I am not," Regulus hissed. With a superhuman effort, he stopped staring at the woman and glared at his brother. The second half was far easier than the former. "Besides. Can you blame me for looking?"

"You mean the fact she has vaguely reddish hair and has a nice ass? I'd mark her a seven or so," Sirius said. "She's way too old for you, anyway."

"Whatever, Mr. 'I hit on Rosmerta when drunk'," Regulus retorted.

"That was only once, and you swore never to tell anyone," Sirius reminded him. He handed his brother a glass of seltzer water, because apparently he didn't trust Regulus to hold his liquor. It was honestly a fair thing to assume. "Anyway, I'm here because Dad said you needed someone to talk to and were going nuts with only Crouch for conversation. Also that letter you wrote was just sad. I mean, really, Reg? You can't even realize you've gained a fanclub?"

"What?" Regulus said inanely. "Fanclub?"

"The girls following you around? Those are called stalkers. You may remember the ones that did the same with me," Sirius explained slowly so his little brother would understand. He continued, sounding a little disturbed, "Some of them had shrines. It was creepy."

"Great. You're not even gone for a year, and they've decided to go after the spare," Regulus grumbled. He did not need to deal with romance right now. Well, he did, just not that kind of romance. The kind that could possibly destroy friendships.

"Yeah. That's it exactly. You did what, beat the crap out of some seventh-years for hurting your friend? Being all chivalrous and whatnot? Yeah, that's a major turn-off for women. Giving a shit, I mean," Sirius replied sarcastically. "Totally not what they're looking for."

"How does that explain you, then?"

"Oi! I am trying to help you here. The least you could do is respect your elders," Sirius snapped, sounding not at all upset. "I'm here to listen to your problems, and this is the treatment I get? Why in the hell did I listen to Dad? So. Shoot. Tell me the latest drama."

Regulus suddenly didn't really want to explain. How could he talk about this to Sirius, whose definition of taking something seriously was doing the opposite? But Regulus didn't want to have dragged his brother all the way out here for nothing, so he explained, "I have this friend. And he's in love with this other friend of his, but this other friend doesn't know what the hell their own feelings are. And there was some snogging. And then a lot of awkward silence. Help."

"Well, I'm assuming the 'friend' isn't you," Sirius began. "Because the only reason you'd use the third person plural in this situation to discuss someone is if the 'other friend' is also a bloke. Also, you need to stop staring at the redhead. It's considered impolite in most societies, unless you buy her a drink. So. My only question is why is this your problem?"

"Because he's my bloody friend, all right? You'd be freaking out of something like this was going on with, I don't know, Lupin," Regulus argued, belatedly realizing he probably shouldn't have used Lupin as an example. "I meant in a unrequited love kind of way."

"Point," Sirius conceded. He looked like he was actually thinking about the problem, strangely enough. Regulus just hoped to high heaven that his brother didn't come to the conclusion that the 'other friend' happened to be Regulus. He didn't want to have to talk his brother down from going all overprotective on him. Finally, Sirius suggested, "Well, why don't you just get them to talk about it? I mean, obsessing isn't going to do anyone any good, and you're the last person on earth anyone would want romantic advice from."

"Gee, thanks, Sirius," Regulus interjected sarcastically.

"I'm just saying, bro," Sirius replied, completely unfazed. He was used to this sort of reaction from Regulus. "You aren't exactly the best person ever in the romance department, and—Seriously, stop staring at her. Don't be a creep. She's Sia's cousin. Notice Sia over there? Yeah, so stop staring at her. I don't need you making Sia think I'm a weirdo by association."

"I am not staring at her," Regulus complained. Okay, so maybe he was. But not really.

Sirius sighed and muttered, "Reg, you need any more confirmation you're into women?" Deciding to hell with it, Sirius continued, "You didn't even notice that Crouch has been into you for, what, three years, and now you're having second thoughts? And you really snogged him?"

"Shut up," Regulus hissed. Sirius didn't need to say that out-loud. Well, he would think he did, but Regulus knew otherwise. Most of what Sirius said didn't need to be spoken aloud. "And I'm confused. And maybe I—" He sighed. "I don't even know."

"And what does Crouch think about all this?" Sirius asked, obviously starting to be bored by this line of questioning. "Or have you even asked him? Wait, let me guess: he yelled at you."

"He's nothing like his father."

Sirius snorted. "Trust me, I know. Guy just stares at you and you're too afraid to not follow orders. At least you know where you stand with Moody," he complained. Explaining himself, Sirius mentioned, "I just meant that Crouch was pissed off at you for your strange self-sacrificing tendencies. And, again, Reg, eyes off her boobs. We're having a serious discussion here. You can ogle on your own time. Where was I? Oh, yeah. You're an idiot. Look, Crouch's well aware that you're a skirt-chaser. As you have repeatedly reinforced over the course of this conversation. My point is that you need to realize guilt does not change your sexuality. Also, FYI, you think you're asexual because of the depression, according to Remus. He's doing psychology stuff when he's got some spare time from reading DADA at university."

"I haven't been staring at her breasts, Sirius. She's just there," Regulus corrected, more or less distracted by, well, now that Sirius mentioned it… No. He was not going to stare. Trying to concentrate on what they were talking about, Regulus said, "And how does that help at all? We're still stuck with the problem that I make my best friend miserable by virtue of proximity."

Sirius shrugged, obviously wishing he could help. "It's a problem you can't solve, Reggie. You're not Superman, you know," he reminded his little brother. "Although I wouldn't be too surprised if Mum and Dad had adopted you from another planet."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Regulus said, hoping to Merlin Sirius wouldn't go on a jag about how they couldn't possibly be related. This fulfilled his quota for the year. "And we know you'd be the space-alien. You're the black sheep, after all."

"And damned proud of it," Sirius agreed. "Now, I gotta go. Sia looks like she's gonna kill me." He suddenly looked somber and said, "Just, remember that things'll get better, okay, Reggie? I wholehearted expect to embarrass the hell out of you for ages to come."

"Whatever you say, Sirius," Regulus replied, not quite knowing how to respond to his brother's request to refrain from offing himself. "I guess I'll see you later, then?"

Sirius grinned and confirmed, "You got it, bro. Take care of yourself."

"You, too," Regulus murmured as Sirius returned to where Sia was waiting. She seemed a little exasperated with him, but that wasn't out of the ordinary by any stretch of the imagination. With a sigh, Regulus left the bar and made his way back to the castle.

He decided to visit Barty, who seemed to going slightly crazy because of his confinement to the Hospital Wing. Sirius was right about at least one thing, though. There wasn't anything Regulus could do that would change this situation except talking about what had happened. Oh, the idiotic duel was in the past. Regulus didn't particularly care anymore that Barty wasn't saying anything to Slughorn about it. Strange that his perception could change that much just by talking to Sirius, Poster-Child of Gryffindor Stupidity. Or Regulus had simply channeled his anxiety about how he and Barty were going to move on from this into anger about the duel.

In any case, Madame Pomfrey let Regulus into the infirmary. She seemed glad that he was there. Regulus hoped it was because Barty was being annoying as opposed to being depressed. Well, it was time to actually have a serious conversation. Maybe. Or Regulus would just complain about how obnoxious Sirius was.

"Hey, Barty," Regulus said, sounding almost chipper as he took his usual seat next to the bed. Barty thought it weird that he effectively sat sideways on the chair. Regulus just thought it was more comfortable leaning against an armrest and draping his legs over the other. "Guess who's a royal pain in the ass?"


	8. Heartbreaker

Follows "Fairytale" in **Little Voice**.

* * *

><p>The moment Barty replied, Regulus knew something was wrong. He had expected the response to sound tired or bored, seeing as every time he asked who was a royal pain in the ass like that, the answer was Sirius. However, there was something in Barty's tone that didn't quite match with boredom. Yes, he could hear annoyance, but Barty <em>had<em> been stuck in the Infirmary for a week. Regulus had visited as often as he could, but maybe he hadn't been visiting enough? Or maybe Regulus was reading too much into this. Managing to muster up what remained of his good mood, he replied, "My idiot brother."

Barty said, "Hm," in response, and Regulus realized that his original assessment had indeed been correct. Barty was angry with him. Well, there were many reasons that could be, varying from the incredibly legitimate (it _was_ Regulus's fault that Barty was in the Hospital Wing) to something Regulus couldn't really think of. He knew that Barty had been visited repeatedly by Slughorn to try and draw what had happened out of him. Slughorn had made Regulus go over almost the exact sequence of events with him repeatedly, although Regulus did leave out the reason that Barty had passed out in front of the fire and the reason why Barty was drunk in the first place. He had only mentioned that he and Barty had a fight and that Barty had another one of his headaches. Regulus had a feeling that Slughorn knew he wasn't telling the whole truth, but the professor had probably realized that Barty had been drinking.

Regulus just flat-out couldn't ask what was wrong. He couldn't apologize, either, because then Barty would become even more angry with him for apologizing for something he hadn't even realized he had done wrong. Maybe he should just leave? No, he couldn't do that. He had an obligation to stay. No matter what Barty said, it really was Regulus's fault that he was in the infirmary. If he hadn't moved that bottle, if he hadn't kissed him…

Regulus tried to plaster a smile on his face. He couldn't let Barty know he still felt like that. Hell, this was part of the reason that Regulus had been avoiding talking about what had happened. Aside, of course, from the fact that Barty likewise seemed reluctant to bring it up, but maybe Regulus had just been projecting his own feelings on the matter. He hadn't really wanted to discuss anything like that in the infirmary. It wasn't that he didn't trust Madame Pomfrey, but he just wanted to talk to Barty in private. Crap. There went his good mood.

How to convince Barty that he wasn't upset? Babble! That usually worked. It had a high probability of annoying the hell out of him, but Regulus at least would be able to keep Barty from realizing that he wasn't so chipper anymore. Regulus honestly had no idea what to talk about, though. He didn't want to say anything that would upset Barty, so Regulus decided to keep it to mundane things. Bracing himself, Regulus started, "So, I went to go talk to Sirius. That was why I was in Hogsmeade. It's not really a nice day outside right now, so you're not really missing anything in here. I mean, it was kinda boring wandering around Hogsmeade alone, and I felt really guilty leaving you here. Anyway, um, I talked to Sirius about random stuff, and he kept making fun of me for occasionally glancing at this girl behind him. Okay, so she was really pretty, but his mind immediately goes to the gutter. Anyway, he complained about how much of an idiot I am, but that's nothing new, and then said that those girls who've been following me around are a fan club or something, which makes no sense. I mean, why in the hell would they have been following me around? Sirius has this stupid theory that it's cause I got in that fight, but it's probably because I now seem a little more like him or something."

Okay, that was a bit too not-chipper. Regulus knew Barty wasn't looking at him on purpose and likely wasn't really listening to what he was saying. The latter was honestly a godsend, since Regulus had clearly veered into the self-hating category there. Also, he had mentioned that woman, which was pretty goddamn insensitive of Regulus. The topic they were avoiding was romance-based, so Regulus had no right to even comment on the fact that he thought some random bird in a bar was drop-dead gorgeous.

Barty's shoulders were tensed, and Regulus decided he needed to find another, less touchy topic. He couldn't talk about the weather. The weather was the discussion topic of last resort. School Regulus didn't want to bother Barty with, since his friend had enough on his plate right now. They had a potions essay to complete in a couple days, and Barty would probably be able to ace it, but he would only freak out if he knew about it. Barty thought he was really bad at potions, but Regulus had come to realize that he was honestly only bad when they were mixing them. Regulus had once tried to compare potions to cooking, but Slughorn had wandered by and corrected him about that. Regulus still thought it was like advanced cooking, but he somehow managed to be unable to cook. Wait! That reminded him! Barty was out of the gossip loop!

Regulus was about to bring Barty up to speed on the Hogwarts rumor mill when Madame Pomfrey started to tell Barty that he was going to be released from the prison that was the Hospital Wing. Alas, Barty wasn't listening, as Regulus has suspected, so Madame Pomfrey resorted to raising her voice, which did indeed get Barty's attention. "I said, if you were paying attention, that I think you are fit to at least spend the rest of the weekend in your own bed, so long as you check back at least once during the day tomorrow," she explained again. Barty's eyes went as wide as saucers when he realized that his freedom was impending. "And, if Mr. Black would escort you back to the common room?" she added.

Regulus heard Barty say no like a knife to the heart. So Barty had the right to be angry with him, but who else was going to help him get back to the Slytherin common room? Hesitantly, Regulus said, "Don't worry Madame Pomfrey. I'll make sure he gets back in one piece." Barty tried to stand and almost fell over again, but Regulus reached out to stabilize him. Thankfully, Barty didn't try to push him away.

They remained mostly silent the entire time that it took to return to the Slytherin common room. Regulus had the fright of his life when Barty almost walked off the end of a staircase that was in the middle of changing locations. He was also rather annoyed by the fact that there was an entire gaggle of girls following him around. He wasn't Sirius, didn't they get that? What really disturbed him was the whispering and a couple not-so-subtle points in their direction. Regulus knew he'd put the fear of God in Evan, but maybe someone else had been awake for that argument? He would never forgive himself if someone started a rumor about that…

Barty didn't seem to realize that he was leaning more and more on Regulus as time went on, not that Regulus minded. He just questioned the intelligence of leaving Barty to his own devices for a while. Barty wasn't likely going to want to talk to Regulus this weekend, mostly because he was obviously still injured all to hell and didn't need to have the conversation they were still putting off.

Once inside the common room, a good number of their classmates turned to see what was going on. Regulus felt like some cowboy walking into a saloon in a western. The whole bar would fall silent, and everyone would turn to see who had entered. He didn't need this kind of crap, and Barty sure as hell didn't, either. Not in his condition. About halfway to the stairs to their dormitories, the whispers began. Regulus considered hunting Evan down and demanding what he had said, but it wasn't Evan's fault. Rosier wasn't the sort who would have betrayed someone who was even a nominal friend, assuming they had connections.

As Regulus and Barty got to the stairs, Regulus heard some gobshite declare sotto voce, "Lookit 'im! Got his arse beat and doesn't even know by who!" Barty tensed when he heard that, and Regulus again restrained himself from hunting someone down and beating the ever-loving shit out of them. The thought surprised him, although maybe the conversation with Sirius had caused a temporary rubbing-off of idiotic ideas. Emotionally satisfying idiotic ideas, but idiotic ideas nonetheless.

"C'mon, Barty. Don't listen to them," Regulus murmured to his friend. He doubted that Barty had really heard him say anything, but Barty seemed to relax a little. Regulus honestly pinned it on the fact that Barty was utterly exhausted. Hell, he even considered carrying Barty the rest of the way for a brief moment, but then Barty would go on about how reputation was everything in Slytherin and that he likely had lost all of his but didn't need Regulus making his loss go into the negatives.

Back in the dorm, Regulus helped Barty into bed and paused for a long moment. He knew Barty wasn't feeling well, but no one was in the dorm, and they _really_ needed to talk. Yes, Regulus wanted to discuss things because he was fairly certain Barty was angry with him, but all of this needed to be sorted, somehow. Sitting down on the edge of Barty's bed, Regulus murmured, "I think we need to talk."

Barty stared at him in something resembling disbelief. Regulus chose to think that it was because he was pushing this topic right now, when Barty wanted to do nothing more than sleep, but in the back of his head, he knew it was because he had brought up the topic. "I—I know you think I'm emotionally retarded or more likely an idiot, but I just wanted to make sure everything was okay between us," Regulus managed. Yep, he sounded like an idiot, and Barty was staring at him in something between shock and horror, but goddamn it, Regulus had started this conversation, so he was going to say his piece. "I know you think I don't—I don't know how I feel, Barty. I really don't. I wish I did, but I don't. And it breaks my heart to know you feel the way you do and think I…" Regulus broke off, feeling overemotional and stupid. He tried to explain, "I don't want to lose you. You're my best friend, and I love you, and I don't want to lose you!" Oh, shit, he was not going to cry. He was not going to put even more on his friend's plate.

Biting his lip, Regulus forced himself to calm down a little. "I understand if you want me to leave you alone. You deserve a better friend than me. Fuck, I find out you've been beaten half to death by some seventh-years, and what do I do? I lash out at them. I don't try and find you. No, that would be too sensible and selfless. Instead, I try to make them pay." Regulus laughed derisively and demanded, "How do you fucking stand it? How do you stand trying to bloody deal with me?"

"Reg, shut up," Barty said in a tone Regulus couldn't quite identify. He wasn't sure he wanted to, in any case.

"No! No, I will not shut up!" he shouted, standing. "I don't understand! How in the hell can you think I'm worth something? I'm a selfish bastard that clearly doesn't give a shit about other people! How can you think…!"

Regulus wanted to run, but he knew he owed it to Barty to stay and listen. If Barty wanted him gone, he would leave, but he would have to tell him to go. With a shaky breath, Regulus returned to where he had been sitting previously. Annoyed at himself, he repeated as calmly as he could, "I just wanted to say I was sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

Not knowing what to expect, Regulus braced himself for the worst. He had said his piece and now was going to have to live with the consequences, good or ill. He just hoped this wouldn't be the end of their friendship. Silently cursing himself for being so pathetic, Regulus knew he wouldn't be able to weather that.


	9. Lady Stardust

Follows "Love Song" in **Little Voice**.

* * *

><p>Regulus was glad that Barty was finally out of the Hospital Wing and everything—their relationship, life in general—was back to normal. He had been seriously lonely the past week. Sure, he had friends in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but with Slytherin acting the way it was, the students in the other houses were giving him a wide berth. Well, except for the Gryffindors. They were under the frankly bizarre impression that Regulus had gone and joined the Death Eaters, which if they knew him at all made no sense whatsoever. Hell, the ridiculous rumor had even reached Sirius, who needed to be talked down from hunting down the Dark Lord, etc. Sometimes it was such a bother having such a crazy big brother.<p>

With a sigh, Regulus returned to his homework, resigned to the fact that he was going to be sitting at the table, alone. Barty was off trying to get Slughorn off his back about the fight or whatever. Regulus had to admit that his friend had probably done the right thing in saying nothing. Those seventh-years were up to something, Regulus could tell. Apparently payback for earning them a good two months of detention far more severe than Regulus's was still coming. Alas, Filch didn't keep a cactus in his office anymore: apparently he had realized that the self-styled Marauders had spread the rumor about detentions in the dungeons with a cactus and a croquet mallet.

And why wouldn't that creepy fanclub leave him alone? What did he have to do to get them to go away? Scare a firstie half to death? Kill a kitten? Sacrifice a kitten to Lucifer? Sleep with Bellatrix? Honestly, Regulus was at a loss, especially since they might get worse if he did something insane like snog a random bloke (not Barty—that would be cruel). Hell, he still remembered the rumors about Sirius and Lupin. The girls practically lined up to spy on them and offer themselves as the third in an ménage à trois. Regulus chose not to dwell on that.

The worst part was that there seemed to be more and more whispers whenever he went somewhere. He had tried to find out what it was about, but his friends in Ravenclaw had said he would rather not know. The muttering behind his back got even worse when he and Barty were together as usual. It didn't matter if it were at mealtimes or in the hall or even in class. People seemed to be talking. Regulus wondered what in the hell it was, especially since only Evan would be able to spread any rumor Regulus really gave a damn about. Maybe he needed to instill the fear of God in him again. Maybe.

Damn, Regulus was going to go crazy if he didn't figure out what was going on. Who was he kidding? Regulus was about to storm out of the Great Hall when Arachne Zabini sat down across from him. She was acting aloof as usual, as she normally did when in full view of the student body. Regulus groaned internally. He didn't need her throwing herself at him, too. She was his _friend_!

"Oh, stop freaking out, Black," Arachne complained. "I'm not here to invite you to some sixth-year orgy, although I'm sure some of our classmates would like to. I personally don't get it. You're far too high maintenance, and you've got this crazy Gryffindor streak that I find self-destructive. I mean, come on, Black, two seventh-years? Are you insane?"

"Sources say yes," Regulus mentioned, knowing she had been speaking rhetorically. It served to annoy her, but he didn't need to hear her talk about orgies. They were even.

Arachne was unamused but admitted, "True. People do talk. Although in this case, I'm inclined to believe rumor, if you and your brother are anything to go by."

"I believe we already discussed that. It's the inbreeding," Regulus interrupted. Arachne glared at him, so he shut up. She could be scary when she wanted, even if she was a Ravenclaw.

"I'm sure you're going batty trying to figure out why people are avoiding you?" Arachne guessed, knowing the answer. She was obnoxious like that, but Regulus honestly was glad for her advice and information when she deigned to give him either. "Anyway, you have to have realized that you've obtained a fan club by now. Or, more likely, you wrote to your brother and he explained it so a five year old could understand. However, I haven't been able to determine the source of the new rumors, but you're sure to be displeased with their contents."

"Arachne, could you _please_ drop the Mata Hari act for once? You're amazing. You're crazy talented at spinning webs. Now could you please explain in plain English?" Regulus requested. Normally, he wouldn't care that she was insulting him left and right (it's partially why he liked her; she was an equal opportunity offender) and even found the spymaster airs amusing, but right now was not a good time.

Arachne raised an eyebrow. "You're really that on edge, aren't you?" she said, concerned. "Jesus, I wish I had better news, Reg. I really do." With a grimace, Arachne explained, "Someone in Slytherin started this rumor. To me, it sounds suspect, maybe even a little crazy, but if it's true, then I'm sorry some asshole broadcasted it to the whole school."

"I'm going to fucking murder Evan Rosier," Regulus growled.

Arachne winced and quickly said, "It's not him. I checked. Guy's scared to death you're going to off him, which under normal circumstances I would laugh so hard about I'd piss my pants. I wouldn't even mind that I'd done that in front of the whole school, either. That's how funny I think it is." She shook her head and asked, "So it's true, then? You and Barty are…"

"No," Regulus murmured. "It's not."

"So it's just another day in the House of Sexual Repression?" Arachne surmised. "Damn. And here I was hoping you two crazy kids were finally doing away with your sexual tension. Seriously, though, Reg, don't go on a rampage or anything. I don't want you to go to Azkaban for murder here. Look, there are a couple rumors circling around. Most of them involve you, Barty, and homosexuality. One of them even manages to work the word 'catamite' in. I was impressed; the rumor-monger this time obviously shot for the moon with the ten quid words."

"Do I even want to know?" Regulus asked, figuring the answer was no.

Arachne shrugged. "Do you want to murder a group of people and be sent to Azkaban? I wouldn't. Your brother would even think it was stupid, and he's king of Stupidia, Land of the Imbeciles," Arachne explained. "No offense."

"Better than what I call him," Regulus admitted, not sure how he was supposed to feel. On one hand, the fan club would disperse. On the other hand, Barty's secret had been revealed to the entire school. No amount of insane stunts on Regulus's part could make anyone believe otherwise, unless said insane stunt was sleeping his way through the female sixth-years.

Yeah, that wasn't happening. Sirius could keep his fake title. Now, that redh—No.

Very serious, Arachne warned, "You need to watch out. Not everyone would be willing to throw a party for you getting laid with a dude. There are some real wankers about sex and the like around here. I mean, hell, Regulus, you _really_ need to watch your back. I know you could hold off a couple seventh-years, but I highly doubt you could fend off more than that. Pass it on to Barty, too. Guy just got out of the infirmary. He doesn't need to be sent there again so soon."

"Christ, Arachne, are you really that worried?" Regulus asked, surprised. Yeah, they were friends, but the way she was acting scared him.

"You're a good guy, Reg. Whoever you end up with would be lucky to have you," she said somewhat sadly. "Just remember that there are some major-league assholes in this world."

"Like I'm ever going to end up on the wrong side of them for real," Regulus said bitterly. "Mum'll arrange some marriage to some pureblood girl who'll probably be awful, and…" Shit. He was not going there. He had told himself he wasn't going to think about that for another year.

With a pitying smile, Arachne disagreed, "Somehow I doubt that, Reg. I really do."

"I'll take care of myself," he promised, just to make sure Arachne wouldn't start following him around, too. Hell, he wouldn't mind to have her around, but it wasn't fair to her. She was Ravenclaw's spymaster after all. Her reputation loss would be disastrous if she suddenly started stalking Slytherin's newly-minted pariah like another one of the many fangirls.

Arachne still looked worried when Regulus finally managed to convince her he could take care of himself. Besides, it was best she didn't think about how he already more or less had a mark on his head. Those two seventh-years were likely behind all this madness. It made sense in some sick and twisted way. Why else would someone go to bat for a friend? It couldn't be simple loyalty, could it? No, of course not. What were they? Hufflepuffs? No, they were Slytherin, where students were proud to be backstabbing assholes. Couldn't ever act outside the role of the brilliant bastard, cunning and ambitious. Idiots couldn't even realize you were better off winning people over with kindness. What was Narcissa saying? The best route to power was to make people love you, respect you, and fear you. Something like that. Sure, two out of three weren't bad, but Regulus would honestly prefer to be loved and respected than respected and feared. Loyalty and honor were paramount, and backhanded actions like what the seventh-years had done were neither honorable nor inspired loyalty.

Regulus was far angrier than he wanted to be by the time he arrived at the Slytherin dorms. Jesus Christ, he needed to calm down. Arachne had been right, as usual. He couldn't just go in there and challenge someone he suspected of spreading these rumors to a duel. He couldn't give them more ammunition, and there was no way he was going to start another fight. He knew his father would be disappointed in him if he did.

It took about fifteen minutes for Regulus to cool off. He muttered the password to the portrait to let him inside and silently thanked whoever was looking out for him that the Saloon Effect had finally worn off. No one turned to look at him, and he was almost ready to breath a sigh of relief when the whispering started. That's what he got for being optimistic, wasn't it?

No, he was not going to let this get to him. It wouldn't matter if the rumors were true, in any case. Hell, he had half a mind to announce to the entire bloody common room that he was gay just to embarrass the hell out of everyone for whispering about it like homosexuality was something to be ashamed of. Common sense stopped Regulus, thankfully, but he still didn't get it. No one thought less of Uncle Alphard, did they? Regulus's classmates were bloody weird.

Inside his dorm room, Regulus dropped his work on his bed and flopped down onto it to stare at the ceiling. He really hated it here, sometimes. All the bullshit that Slytherin as a whole manufactured could supply the global manure business for millennia. At least the Hufflepuffs told you when they had a problem with you. Not so with Slytherin. Everyone just talked behind everyone else's back. The Ravenclaws were above such worldly concerns, obviously, and Gryffindor always seemed to rally around whomever was being targeted.

God, Regulus felt like an outcast.

He knew it was a stupid thought as soon as it popped into his mind. Him? An outcast? Really? The perfect pureblood prince? The son that never stepped out of line, never disobeyed? The boy who would willingly walk wherever he was told, be it down an aisle or behind Voldemort? The idea of Regulus Arcturus Black as an outcast was laughable.

"Er, Black? Why are you laughing like that? It's bloody creepy," Evan mentioned, sounding scared. That was another thing Regulus didn't get: how in the name of God had he managed to scare Rosier of all people? Mr. Unflappable himself. Evan probably thought Regulus was crazy, but Regulus couldn't bring himself to care. "Uh, anyway, Black, I just wanted to tell you that it wasn't me. It was those two blokes—"

Evan said the names, and Regulus stopped laughing.


	10. People Are Strange

Follows "City" in **Little Voice**.

* * *

><p>"Siobhan, why haven't you talked to me for the last week?" Regulus asked, confused. "I thought we were going to work on that Charms project together?" Please don't let her be avoiding him for the same reason others seemed to be…<p>

Looking down at the ground, Siobhan attempted to explain, "Look, Regulus, I like you. I really do, but—"

"I'm not gay!" he exclaimed, cutting her off. This was the third bloody time today that he had been forsaken by people he had considered his friends, all because of some stupid rumor.

The look on Siobhan's face said everything when he said that. The rumors were indeed the reason, and she did not believe him. "I wish it were different, Regulus, and I feel guilty about this—really, I do—but do you have any idea how radioactive you are socially now?" she said, apparently unaware of how much this hurt him. "Hufflepuff acceptance only goes so far; if it weren't for the seventh-years, I'd not give a damn. Look, I'm really sorry. I really am," she continued, attempting to apologize. Regulus almost believed her. "You heard what happened with Arachne. Everything'll blow over soon, but I can't let that happen to me. I'm sorry."

The mention of Arachne stung, but Regulus had to admit that Siobhan did have a point. "I—I understand," Regulus lied. He didn't, and her abandoning him hurt just as much as all the jeers and whispers had in the past couple days. She was supposed to be his friend! And she was just going to drop him the moment that he lost face? "I'll see you later, then."

Siobhan apologized again before she left as quickly as she could. Even if he hated her for this, Regulus knew that her concern over what happened with Arachne was legitimate, although he expected more of the Ravenclaws and especially the Hufflepuffs. Apparently intelligence and wit weren't necessarily synonymous with acceptance. Arachne had become something of a pariah for continuing to talk to Regulus. Her boyfriend had apparently dumped her for being friends with Regulus, which was honestly puzzling to him. However, the fact of the matter was that Arachne had become persona non grata simply for her association with him.

How had this happened?

Why hadn't Regulus just not read that letter? He wouldn't have kissed Barty, and then Barty wouldn't have gotten hurt, so Regulus wouldn't have challenged those asshole seventh-years to a duel. Now they had spread these damned rumors about him and Barty, and the worst part was that no one seemed to believe Regulus when he denied them. On the bright side, at least the flock of girls had diminished if not completely evaporated. At least something was going all right. Oh, right, so was school. Like that mattered.

Regulus wandered around the school, trying to clear his head. Usually, walking around the courtyards and just generally around the castle would help, but today it wasn't. It hadn't been for the past couple days, because people were still treating him like there was something wrong with him. The seventh-year Slytherins as a whole were the worst, although even they seemed to be attracting some flack, too, with that recent (and quite frankly bizarre) rumor that one of them had had a sex change. To be honest, though, the rumor sounded like Barty's work, because that was pretty much standard for the way his mind worked. And Barty was bloody amazing at Transfiguration. So he might have actually pulled that off.

Feeling morose, Regulus decided he would be better off moping in some windowed alcove than wandering around, constantly reminded of his social leprosy. Once he was alone and acting like he was out of some nineteenth century romance novel, Regulus contented himself with staring out the window and attempting to not think about anything. He failed at the latter, which shouldn't have surprised him.

He just wished he weren't so confused.

Regulus had been thinking about how he really felt ever since he had heard about the rumors. Yes, Barty had said to forget everything the day he had been set free from the infirmary, but Regulus couldn't. He had tried, but he couldn't. Obviously, it didn't help that the whole school was speculating on Regulus' sexual orientation, but the fact of the matter was that Regulus didn't know himself.

Okay, fine, he knew he liked women. Exhibits One and Two: Lily Evans and that redhead from the other weekend. However, the more Regulus thought about it, the more he realized that he had _liked_ kissing Barty. More than liked, to be honest. He wouldn't have minded an encore or even something more. Regulus felt himself blush. If he really did feel this way, and he was fairly certain he did, then how in the world was he going to deal with this? The rumors had to be taken care of, but how could he stop them if he ended up doing exactly what they said? He couldn't let his own situation affect his friends, and while Regulus would have been fine with having rumors spread about him, he refused to let these ones spread about Barty. The fact that Barty did have feelings for him didn't matter; there was no reason for something private like that to be spread around the school for amusement. Worse, the mere act of being friends with Regulus seemed to be negatively affecting people, and that was another reason to stop these bloody rumors. The only problem was the fact that Regulus wasn't so sure he wanted them to be lies.

Oh, God, and that dream from last night…

Regulus didn't know what to do. He had told Barty he would drop this, but Barty was so damned convinced that Regulus didn't know what was in his own mind that even if Regulus tried to bring the subject of what had happened up again Barty wouldn't believe him. Honestly, Regulus couldn't even blame him. He usually didn't have any idea what was going on. He was so bloody blind. How was it that he couldn't notice so many things? Was he just that stupid?

"Well, look at what we have here!"

Regulus froze. Oh, God, no. He looked up to find the two seventh-years and friends. Regulus's first instinct was to bolt, but he wasn't so sure that was the wisest option. Unlike when he had fought the two seventh-years the last time, this time he didn't have his wand.

Trying to seem annoyed, Regulus complained, "As if my day could get any worse."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?" the leader inquired, probably seeing through Regulus' act. Regulus just hoped that there wasn't going to be a repeat of their last meeting. "Because I don't see how a poofter like you has any right to think you're superior to us."

At least Regulus didn't need to feign anger. "You know damn well that's bullshit," he growled. Belatedly, Regulus realized he should deny the implicit accusation. "And I'm straight, you jackass. I've even a bloody reputation for chasing after redheads, for Merlin's sake!"

"Then why did Crouch get his panties in a twist over you getting roughed up?" the idiot asked, trying to be subtle.

"Because he's my friend, shit-for-brains!" Regulus shot back, all-too-aware of the fact that he was again pissing off a group of seventh-years. He knew he shouldn't be trying to make them angry, but he was so angry at them that he was almost past caring. Should they decide to fight him, Regulus would be screwed. He could defend himself long enough to run should they decide that a brawl was preferable to a magical duel, but the moment spells flew, Regulus would lose. Reining in his anger, he amended, "Look, he's my bloody friend. And you didn't exactly go easy on the curses, although you've a long way to go until your Cruciatus can even hold a candle to Bellatrix's most lazily cast. I didn't step on your goddamn toes; you got away with a bloody Unforgivable, _and_ you get to say you kicked my ass." And Regulus really needed to stop giving backhanded compliments. This was not like when he and Narcissa were people-watched at cafés.

"Methinks the lady dost protest too much," one of the new henchmen commented.

"I think you're right," the leader agreed, smiling wickedly. Regulus felt a shiver run down his spine. He had seen that look before on Bellatrix's face, and for once the fact that Bellatrix was the one with the expression was not the reason it scared him. The leader glanced at Claudius (Regulus couldn't remember the name of Hamlet's mother at the moment) and the other extra. Some understanding must have passed between them, and Regulus prepared to run the hell away. However, apparently the leader had learned from their last encounter.

The silently cast if weak confounding charm was enough to stop Regulus from running long enough for Claudius and the extra to grab him. The charm wore off almost immediately after that, which allowed Regulus to demand, "What the hell do you think you're doing? You do realize that Slughorn believes me, right?"

"Only because of your family's influence," the leader said lightly. For a moment, Regulus thought he was going to continue, but then the idiot threw the first punch. They had learned, after all. Magic could be traced. Violence of this sort? That was a bit more difficult.

Regulus cursed himself for crying out when the idiot hit him again. He didn't want these bastards to know what they were doing hurt. The two seventh-years managed to keep Regulus standing as the idiot beat him despite the fact that Regulus could barely stand as time went on.

The leader joined in when the idiot seemed to be a bit winded. Regulus was glad for the lack of attacks directed at his solar plexus, but he was less glad for the fact that he was now being hit in the face. While he was a bit vain (all right, incredibly vain), Regulus was more concerned by the possibility of a concussion or brain damage than his face being broken. Regulus laughed at the idea that he even gave a damn about either right now before he could stop himself. Laughing was a bad plan, but since when had he not managed to laugh in inappropriate situations? Regulus braced himself a particularly vicious attack, but it never came.

Instead, the idiot said, "Oh, you think this is funny?"

The leader smiled like Bellatrix again and suggested, "Why don't we have a little fun instead?" The unspoken insinuation chilled Regulus to the bone. He had to be overreacting, right? _Right? _The guy might be a royal jackass, but he wouldn't…

The idiot smirked at the fear that had to be written all over Regulus's face. "Bet you're used to bending over and taking it, aren't you?" he sneered. "Not like it'll be anything new."

"Please, don't," Regulus begged. Sounding far more desperate than he wanted to, he pleaded, "Please. Don't do this. I'll do anything, say anything you want. Just don't…"

And then Regulus thanked whatever god had been watching over him, because he heard the arch tone of the Transfiguration professor demand, "What in the name of Godric Gryffindor is going on here?"

Claudius and Tweedledum dropped Regulus (he collapsed into a heap on the floor) like he was on fire. The leader and idiot seemed unrepentant, and Regulus just wanted to curl up and die. Or kiss McGoogles. Or both.

Regulus only vaguely heard the seventh-years explain themselves. He didn't particularly give a damn what they had said. All Regulus knew was that this time he wouldn't admit what had really happened. He didn't want to be cornered by those bastards ever again, and if he told the truth about what they did and threatened to do, then the feud would likely intensify. Regulus didn't fancy watching his back and sleeping with one eye open for the rest of the year.

After McGoogles gave the others more detention, she helped Regulus to the Hospital Wing. She was obviously concerned that he wasn't contradicting the seventh-years' story, given that it was ridiculous, and Madame Pomfrey was complaining as usual about the injuries students managed to accrue as she patched Regulus up. The medwitch was able to undo all the damage that had been done, even if the remains of what would have been bruises were still visible on his eye and chest. Despite his silence, McGoogles didn't seem to be upset with him for saying nothing. She just told him again that if he ever needed to talk, he could come to her.

Regulus remained silent, but he wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth. Madame Pomfrey let him go shortly thereafter, and he took the most direct route to the Slytherin dorms as he could. He made sure he was using halls that had a sizable amount of traffic. This time, he didn't care that people were pretending not to watch him. Let them watch. That way, no one would dare do anything to him. When he reached the Slytherin dorms, he made his way through the common room as quickly as he could. Barty may have been there, but he wasn't entirely sure. That was a whole can of worms he would rather not deal with at the moment. More accurately, it was a can of worms he couldn't deal with.

Regulus ran the rest of the way from the common room to the sixth-years' room.

Inside the dormitory, Regulus collapsed onto his bed and cried.


	11. Castles Made Of Sand

Follows "Gravity" in **Little Voice**.

* * *

><p>Transfiguration was more or less uneventful. Regulus had checked to make sure Barty was on his way, but his friend had never materialized. He figured that Barty had fallen back asleep. Barty hadn't been sleeping well the past couple of days. Hell, he had actually slept through the entirety of History of Magic yesterday!<p>

Granted, most people found sleeping through History of Magic normal. Binns had one of those voices that just put people to sleep. Regulus could acknowledge that, but he always found that class interesting to the point that the urge to sleep was completely off-set. That he also drank a couple cups of tea each morning also probably helped. It was rather unfortunate that History of Magic was first thing in the morning…

Professor McGonagall hadn't commented on Barty's absence when she had been checking the progress of the students in their usual row. Regulus wasn't as good at transfiguration as Sirius was, but he and Potter were both brilliant in classes like that. Still, Regulus had managed to complete his assignment about halfway through class.

In Charms, Regulus let his mind wander. Professor Flitwick was talking about illusions, and Regulus knew about those more than anything else, really. He'd seen Sirius—and later helped him—hide the bruises from when their mother lost her temper. Sirius was always the one to step in and protect Regulus. It was rare that he managed to anger their mother, but sometimes Regulus set her off.

None of this nonsense would have happened last year. Sirius probably would have made it disappear, most likely by shutting Regulus in a closet with some random girl and making a big noise about it. That plan was about as harebrained as anything his brother would come up with. Sirius could be such a bloody idiot.

When Professor Flitwick told them to practise the new charm they were learning, Regulus cast it on his inkwell without really thinking. It now looked like it was full of mercury, which wasn't exactly what Professor Flitwick was asking for, but Regulus couldn't be bothered to care. Make an object look like a container filled with quicksilver, make ink look like quicksilver. It was the same difference. Sure, the spellwork to make the more minor adjustment required finesse, but laziness on Regulus' part was not unheard of in Charms.

Barty would have had some problems with this lesson, though. He was great at transfiguration, but charms were not his forte. He usually took a good number of tries before he could learn the spells properly.

Regulus considered making the ink look like other things out of boredom. Lava would be an interesting one, especially if any of his classmates thought to look at the inkwell. Making the liquid look like a collection of solids or crystals would be more difficult, however. The magpies in the class would probably notice if the ink became diamonds. Time-turner dust was pretty, though. It almost looked like liquid gold.

Deciding to experiment with disguising the ink as other metals, Regulus began to cast the spell to make the ink appear to be uranium flakes. He'd have to make something look like a Geiger counter if he wanted to properly freak out his classmates. Sirius wasn't the only one capable of pulling practical jokes. Eh, his quill would suffice for the radiation detector.

However, Regulus was disturbed from his plotting by someone commenting on his current mental state. Lovely. Now people were thinking that he was depressed because Barty wasn't talking to him. Even though that was true, that was not the reason he was moping around. Obviously he was upset that Barty wasn't talking to him. He was more upset about the fact that he was being treated as a social pariah to the point that he was avoiding his other friends so they wouldn't be involved in this mess. That was honestly part of the reason that Regulus wasn't as upset about Barty ignoring him. He had a feeling that Barty was avoiding him because of the rumors. After all, if they weren't seen together, then there was unlikely to be any truth to the rumors, right? Regulus wasn't entirely convinced, either, but he could accept that explanation.

When one of his Slytherin classmates began to contribute to the not-so-subtle conversation, Regulus began to lose his cool. For Merlin's sake, they were only a couple yards away. Did they really think that he couldn't hear them? It was one thing that the Ravenclaws were whispering, but a Slytherin contributing more than just mental state commentary and venturing into the mocking Barty category was unforgivable.

Professor Flitwick in his infinite wisdom seemed to notice that Regulus wanted to murder someone and also had finished his assignment. Regulus was distracted from his homicidal impulses when Professor Flitwick said that he was free to leave, as he had completed more than what had been asked for. After all, the ink really did appear to be quicksilver.

Regulus quietly thanked Professor Flitwick and gathered up his things to leave. On the way out, however, the Slytherin said something reprehensible, and Regulus decided that purchasing a new bottle of ink was worth the satisfaction of throwing the bottle of ink in the asshole's face. The idiot silently freaked out for a moment, probably thinking it was mercury, but Regulus left the classroom before Professor Flitwick noticed.

His walk back to the dungeons was a bit angrier than he had intended, but there was nothing to do about it. Regulus dropped his things off in the dorm and went to the kitchens to grab a bite to eat. The house elves generally didn't mind giving him a sandwich when he wanted to skip lunch, and today was a day that Regulus didn't really want to deal with other people. At least, he didn't want to deal with most other people.

Armed with a sandwich and a bottle of soda (house elves were magical), Regulus went outside to avoid everyone. It was a cloudy day, which was nice. The weather increased the probability that no one would want to wander around outside. Picking a random spot to sit down, Regulus ruminated. He more ate the sandwich than thought, to be honest. He didn't particularly feel like thinking. Thinking was overrated, anyhow. It had never done him any good.

Regulus started to wish the soda was alcoholic. Maybe that would have stopped the goddamned thoughts. Granted, alcohol would have made the soda taste disgusting, but maybe if he were drinking he wouldn't care.

Staring blankly at the lake, Regulus realized Barty was down by the shore. This situation was the perfect opportunity to talk to him. Regulus felt like Barty might not want to talk to him, but this had gone on long enough. Finishing the soda, Regulus disappeared the bottle and ran over to his friend.

"Barty?" Regulus murmured, his hand brushing Barty's shoulder to get his attention.

Barty was startled but turned to face his friend. He seemed surprised for a moment before his gaze turned a little glassy. "Oh. Hey, Reg," he replied. It sounded like he still had a headache. Or he was still more or less asleep.

Regulus sat down next to him. "I fucking hate this place," he said, unsure as to why he started with that. What scared him was that he actually felt like that right then. "It's not the rumors, and, hell, it's not classes. I don't even know what it is, but this is… I don't even know."

Barty stared at him for a moment before he contributed, "This certainly hasn't helped."

Nervously, Regulus admitted, "Look, Barty, I know you've been avoiding me because of the rumors. I appreciate the thought, but I don't care anymore. It's not like I—I can't deal with this alone, Barty. I can't. You're my best friend."

"I was worried that you had freaked out," Barty mentioned. He seemed unsurprised.

Regulus stared down at the ground. Maybe he should—Bracing himself, Regulus admitted, "Barty, I—I've been thinking. I know you told me to forget it, but, Barty, I can't. I really can't. I wish I could, but I don't want to."

Barty was staring at him in what might have been confusion.

"I mean, for fuck's sake, Barty! If we're going to be fucking ostracized, why the hell don't we—" Regulus broke off. He hated himself for even bringing it up. He felt so bloody stupid. What in the name of God was he saying? What was he thinking? "I'm not imagining things," he said quietly. "I'm not."

"Reg, what are you saying?" Barty asked, sounding a little suspicious. Regulus honestly didn't blame him in the slightest. "What brought this on?"

"I don't know," Regulus moaned. "I just—I don't know, Barty. I feel something—I do. And I'm not—I might not know exactly what I feel, but I do feel something, Barty! I tried to forget, and—God, I want this to be over! I can't take it! I don't want to prove them wrong!"

Barty seemed to realize what Regulus was trying to say. Regulus braced himself. He had a feeling that this time the ensuing fight was going to be worse than the one from last time, but he couldn't take this anymore. Now that this was out in the open, the decision was Barty's, and whatever would happen would happen.


End file.
